God’s bookends brace the stories of my life
Firmly hold from first to last, from left and right.
My chapters do not lean - they stamd upright
tho’ tales are less of love and more of strife,
revealing passions heedlessly let loose
or thoughts half-cooked or good intentions failed
or deeds begun and then on sloth impaled
or challenges avoided by a truce
But there they stand in order! Faulty books
which God indexes be they good or not
to read and laugh and weep more than God ought;
for God, Beholder, through love’s prism looks.
God has my story in the Home above.
You’ll find it the Library of love.