Life lies dormant.
Salvation writhes between closed pages.
Aged, old of fathers’ past,
Red words bleed between the lines,
Of promises aged, old
Sworn by a Father of no beginning.
Thick, shimmery leaves
Opposite loosed, leather binding.
Tattered from a history of love.
A name worn from its face
Declares value to treasuring fingers.
Aged, old, now gone.
Slipped form limbs and belligerence
To a world promised
Sworn by a Father of no genesis.
Composed for Gooseberry Garden weekly poetry challenge.
Image borrowed from: http://ourjourneywestward.com/tag/nature-journals/