The Next Chapter

I loved her composition

I found myself satisfied by the skill: stylistic.

Stanzas woven together

So lush,

Provided growth for mind and spirit.

Wellsprings, her chapters

Each one, preceding, begged endeavor into the next, following

But there was no mind paid to the present

To the process.

She was a book I could not finish,

For fear of being…. Finished.

So I set her upon the shelf

Though, once closed I could not find her further.

Long have I found her pages overdue.

I miss her binding,

Her cover page, and the artist’s chosen hue.

Where she is, I’ll never know

I haven’t the slightest clue

21 chapters in

I find myself in love with 22.

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