The blue cover dogeared now and thin

The blue cover, dog-eared now and thin,

holds little more than what has been.

I pulled it out today, by accident,

among the papers life has sent.

The photo, young and sharp and strange,

a face that time began to change.

And pages, crisp and blank and wide,

where journeys never could reside.

A quiet promise, sealed and pressed,

of places I was never blessed

to see. The stamps it should contain,

are just a ghost, a hopeful stain.