The pages were worn, the ink was faded,
1884 the stories were dated,
Tales of love, glory and fears,
Love stories filled with tears,
The authors all were all long gone,
But in there memory there was a song,
It sang of how they were all kids,
It told of the great things they did,
How these ones had changed so many lives,
But didn’t live to have or be wives,
Life is short and sweet, and full of quest,
So you must try and live your best,
The book was full of their tales,
The ones where it rains and hails,
The sunny days and quiet nights,
The loving times and the fights,
There were stories about everything,
Even one with a diamond ring,
The stories touched my heart so deep,
But the last one made me weep,
It told of how the friends all departed,
They forgot all they started,
The book was lost to the till I found it,
A silver clasp still around it,
I finished the story on the last page,
And took this book to the stage,
It was the script for my new show,
Made by great authors I will never know,
But in my heart they live on,
As the words to a sad lonely song.