Ode to Journals

The small book that knows your highest hopes

and your darkest nights

It has 96 ink filled pages

covered in memories with no room to spare

The pages wear your tears

and it winces from the angry pressure of your pen.

A journal is an ocean where your secrets swim

and each emotion can be found in the depths.

A haunting melody, your life’s song

plays over and over again in your mind

until it has been released to sing across the pages of your beloved book

A journal lets your thoughts escape, quieting the voices of your heart

It chronicles your journey to the highest mountains of great joys

and through the lowest valleys of deep sorrows

No masks are worn, but rather your soul is laid bare.

A journal feels like an old friend, the one that knows you better than anyone else.

Author's Note

Picture is not by me. Found on Google Images.

Reviews

[J. F. Charleston]

Awesome!!! Even though I don't journal, but I get what this piece is saying. I'm very surprised there was no "Dear Diary" in this at all. I miss reading your works, they're fantastic. I'll try to be on more than I have been. Great job!!!