365 Days · Poetry

28 – Masterpiece

Etched into sketchbooks
Of lives we’ve touched
And into the tapestries
Of even those who would
Justifiably rather forget
Woven with the beings
We coincidentally met
In a bar, at a show
The people we are
Still yet to know
We are chapters in
The greatest book to
Not yet be written
The mighty author
In the sky writes on
And the stories
Continue to unfold
While we grow old
We’re art under construction
Until we’re well spent
Then he signs his name
With a dot at the end


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