On the street of dreams where dreams go to die
Stood an old empty book store
Curiosity got a hold of me to see more
I spotted an old dusty book
Laying on the shelf all by itself
I enquired about it but was told
To read it myself I cannot give you any help
I picked it up
The binding was torn
The pages were yellow and worn
I carefully opened the cover of the book
A misty odor over took
The dedication was no longer visible
Just the letters For M.P.T.G
Every page had the words” Time Waits..”
The last page was missing.
I said to myself
Has the story ended?
Has the play played on?
Has the music faded away?
Has the poem lost its rhyme?
Has romance become nonexistent?
Have all things come to an end?
You turned the pages I burned the book
It said:
Your yes is your yes your no is your no
There’s no middle ground
Time waits for a decision
Eternity and forever are not part of time
Your time is the only time you have
You make your choices count or you will no longer rhyme
And so it is
Or you keep turning the pages
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“I said to my soul be still, and wait without hope
for hope would be hope for the wrong thing”
T.S.Elliot

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