Open book

open book
Forlorn it waits, though time does age
That open book; an empty page.
Lashing rain the seasons blow
Scorching summers, winter snow.                  
 
Years pass by into neglect,                          
Decaying mould spreads unchecked.
Dream of a renaissance gone,
Colour fades into the sun.
 
Inscribed atop the facing leaf,
A name and loving message brief
From those that did remain and wait
‘Til they themselves should lie in state.
 
But what befell the family who
Had planned their father to pursue?
What caused him now to lie alone
Bereft of words on fragile stone?
 
As leaves change brown and turn to dust,
Likewise too this gravestone must.
Transcendent souls endure sublime,
Abandoned book consumed by time.
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