Just as dog-eared pages appear fanciful,
proving that someone found worth
in the written word, and fully intends
I find sanctuary in the unfinished
and pity those that read the last word.
I may not ever author a hard bound
testament of imagination,
but as a dreamer, my journal
will always be unfinished.
Each last page, from the chapters
I invent, will have no punctuation
and shall carry the scar
of a corner turned down.
And in this, may someone always find me
ready to return to their time.