Given it starts me reading,

Letters on a page open up with meaning,

With someone else’s words who was hoping,

To let others know what they were thinking.


My friends usually will be thumbing,

Might see how I’m trying to be living,

Through someone else’s thoughts that I have been reading,

Of paths that I have never taken.


In and out of boxes while my situations are changing,

A few will still remain with me brown and fading,

Memories often end up on other people’s shelves,

Covered in dust and