Walking Out

On that sparsely lit evening,

While walking out on another gruelling year,

I turned to take in a last glimpse of it,

And its grim face told me,

It wasn't half as fond of me,

As I was of it.

Nonetheless, 

I took the few steps forward towards it,

Embraced it with ample warmth,

And whispered into its ears,

I shall place you right on top,

Of my bookshelf of memories

And every single time,

Before going to sit next to my window

On a graying night that is much closer to the dawn than it is to dusk,

And reflecting upon both my dreadful and dumbfounding days,

I shall not forget to halt by the bookshelf,

Pull you out gently,

And take a quick, teary-eyed peek 

At your faded pages.

~

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