My life is compared to an old, rotten book
that no one dared to take a look.
I remained myself to be kept in the shelf hidden
outside the world where people barely think what's forbidden.
For as long as I can think and remember,
my pages never showed its glow like an ember.
The words and colors began to fade away
until someone like you began to lighten up my day.
Your gentle touch returned my faded colors,
restored the words and opened my closed doors.
Your pen gently swayed on my old, creased paper
like a graceful pirouette done by a ballet dancer.
The day you came, you created a new chapter,
like the one from the novel of an inspired writer.
Every words and details are carefully drawn,
like the dewy grasses of a backyard lawn.
So when my life is over, and I'll be given a chance,
even if it's just a dream that'll easily prance,
if there's a chapter in my book that I would see without strife,
it's when the time you recreated the book of my life.
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