Life is a Book

Life is a book made up of days;
Each one of us writes one;
Its opened when we come to earth
And closed when life is done.
No pen but ours ere touches it,
In our own way we write,
Whether we fall or we succeed,
Turns with the page at night.
And there is no erasing it
To add or take away,
The yesterday’s account is closed,
Sealed within white or grey.
The morning gives another sheet
That’s broad and very white,
And oh, how glorious to have
Another chance to write!
No bad is there too small to show,
No good that’s ever lost,
All that we do goes into Life’s Book
In black and white embossed.
– Zelda Davis Howard