Making a Book

I’m running out of pages. This book’s full,

so yesterday I took some paper scraps

I’d saved and made myself another book.

It isn’t fancy, only five by eight,

and certainly it isn’t perfect, but

the paper’s thick enough that I can paint

with watercolors, draw with pen and ink,

or sketch in pencil. I can even write

if I’ve a mind to write instead of draw.

It’s just a book, a journal, empty, plain,

and nothing special. Just a simple book,

an empty book but one I made myself.

The leather cover’s green but non-descript.

There isn’t any tooling. It is blank

and empty like the pages. Waiting. And

in time I’ll also fill those pages up.

Eventually. Eventually I will.

Eventually I’ll make another book.

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