The Diary

A poem about an old diary.

The Diary
By Austin Brashears

Bound and kept in secret,
Her words are never to be shared with others.
Her cover has been worn and torn from her abuse.
Her leather binding slowly tearing over time.
There is only one who holds the key,
Only one who can gain access
To the memories that are secured and locked
And reveal her heart and soul inside.
She is precious to her author
Who writes in her every night.
Words etched lightly in black ink,
Leaving a permanent impression…
Her pages are delicate and easily torn,
Stained from the years a golden yellow.
And when her master is finished,
She is locked back up
And cast into darkness
Until tomorrow…