Journal II

I began,
smooth polished cover,
leather creaking when you open me.
Perfect smooth pages.
Frighteningly pristine.
Empty.

I was your constant companion, for a year.
Inseparable.
Carried, riding in a bag, a pack.
Pages filled with your life.
Some dirt, coffee stains and more than a bit of sand.
Thoughts that make you, human.
Cover worn, scarred with living.
Pages curling with use.
Gold gilt warn,
fading.
Leather no longer creaking.

I am happy to hold your memories, thoughts, humanity
within my pages.
You have had many other journals
But you still come back to me
Feel the worn cover
Read the words I hold safely on my pages.
Remembering the year we lived and loved,
together.