I am a lonely bookend, holding together the books of my past, present, and future.
The weight of these three books on me and me alone.
The latter of the three yet unfinished by Destiny.
I wait atop the shelf for my matching piece to appear. The other half, my matching bookend.
More books added but that won’t be a problem, because together we could hold together a thousand books, nothing could make us topple over.
Together at last, a pair, no longer lonely bookends.
My Writing Philosophy
To write is to teeter on the edge on insanity.