QUESTION

QUESTION

In a musky antique book shop, very old,
Lay a dusty volume, but still unsold;
Gold blocked, with embossed crimson cover,
That a bees wax polish would soon recover,
Imparting a perfume of honey and thyme,
Reminding one of a balmy summer time.

Inside were poems filled with natural beauty,
Ballads of heroes, who performed their duty;
Fought battles, ‘til their gallant souls did fall,
Such glories did these tales of old recall.
Some leaves uncut after decades of time,
It made me question, with thoughts sublime.

In our book of life are their uncut pages,
Left to resonate through endless ages?