The Open Book
by Alessandro Depoetico Premieritus III

I came across an open book
as I walked there along the brook
I bent to reach it, then I paused
How this abandoned book be caused?

I sat inside the grass and read
The story of a lass alone.
Her heart poured into word and left
Forgotten, by this river stone.

It told of heartache and lament
Not of love lost, but never met.
It told of dreams and hopes she had
And though esconced I felt a cad.

For in so reading I learned her heart
It wrapped around my own
These private words were hers, not mine.
This lass I had not known.

Had others read this book before?
Can it be her my heart adores?
Is she alive, if so but where?
Alas, no answers lingered there.

The babbling of the brook had washed
The questions from my head.
Assumed did I this hope was lost.
The river claims the dead.


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This is my first poem on de poetry boards, please be patient with me. If you have tips to help me improve, I would appreciate dem.
thank you



Penned by my hand on the 22nd of Miraman, in the year 735 AF.