A page from a book

Carried by the winds of time

Picked up by a seagulls hook

Colored upon by a kid of just nine

Wrinkled maybe, yet with a story to tell

Of the book from which it parted

No matter how tattered, couldn't I just dwell

Upon the lovely images, from where I once started

A page of glorius colors and prints

Holds a fond tale of a life so full

A page that wants to be mint

And have the dreams be written....that would be so cool