The Second hand Bookshop

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An old bookmark, made of leather.
Tatty and faded.
No longer the aroma of cowhide.
Lodged between pages 409-410.
A private book of notes and poetry.
Each entry dated and ticked.
Page 409 reads “ My Conquest”.
She sailed the ocean it would seem.
From the way that it read she sailed alone.
She gave little away.
But suffered in Colwyn Bay.
When meeting a man in a sleazy bar.
She lost her way.
Page 401 reads. “That bastard man”.
She took him back to her boat it would seem.
Tall and handsome she was taken in.
Smoked some dope and a bottle of gin.
He did what she hoped and now she was two.
No longer alone on the ocean.
She sails with her baby.
Keeping notes and writing poetry.
That was in 1889.
All thats left is the book that I hold.
And an old bookmark made of leather.




Poetry by Mick Bean
Read 136 times
Written on 2018-01-03 at 16:57

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Ashe The PoetBay support member heart!
I love this, Mick! You not only found a book, but a whole life.
Very sentimental poem.
Ashe
2018-01-03