Storybook

I once had with me a storybook,
But it got stolen, and others mistook,
That it had stayed with me, that it was mine,
They didn’t’ notice, but devastated was I.

My storybook held my life,
My soul, my breath, recorded my every strife,
My storybook was so unique,
It had been written in universal language of love, it wasn’t Latin and Greek.

My storybook, I had held so close,
I had shared, my life’s highs and lows,
Everything, my storybook knew,
To my storybook, nothing was new.

My storybook, was like a dairy,
My secret-keeper, it brighted my day, daily,
My storybook was a pleasure to read,
My storybook was everything to me!

My storybook, has so cleverly been thieved,
My story’s gone with it, to the winds, thrown,
All my pages, have all been torn,
And to insanity, my lament has grown.

The storybook was the crown of my shelf,
He was just me in words, myself,
The story book, had never yellowed,
It was such a beautiful book, love,it sowed.

Oh god, I miss my storybook,
One, that the robber took,
The robber was named mistake,
And anguish, in me, he did wake.

9:29 pm, 4th January, 2009.