God’s bookends brace the stories of my life

Firmly hold from first to last, from left and right.

My chapters do not lean - they stamd upright

tho’ tales are less of love and more of strife,

revealing passions heedlessly let loose

or thoughts half-cooked or good intentions failed

or deeds  begun and then on sloth impaled

or challenges avoided by a truce

But there they stand in order! Faulty books

which God indexes be they good or not

to read and laugh and weep more than God ought;

for God, Beholder, through love’s prism looks.

God has my story in the Home  above.

You’ll find it the Library of love.