Have you seen the book

With one empty page

To write your own story

On this single page

The color? It’s different

The size? It’s different

The page stands out

You could spot it

In a thousand pages

It’s lost

Amidst all the other pages

Beyond recognition

The writing? It’s different

The language? It’s different

Is it part of this book?

You would ask

Very much, I would say

It’s bound at the bone

It completes the story

In its own way

It’s the page

When the reader dreams

Dreams that have occured

Have I finished the story?

Not quite

Midway

Maybe

It flutters in the wind

Eager to turn

I pause

Just a little

On

That single page…