The Book Of Life

Chapter one is completely blank,
The words come with each day,
Too young to know that your growing old,
An infants words are starting to be told.

You find you're on chapter 5,
Learning why you're alive,
Knowledge has come different for you,
The things you've learned show in the proof.

Now on to the prime of your book,
Your mirror shows how you've turned to look,
The memories you've been able to create,
You read the pages of your slate.

We turn to the pages of gray,
Wiser and wiser in your own way,
Starting to see it fade,
But only to bring other things great.

Now its the end of the book,
The great life you've had has been written for others to look,
You've had your pushes you've had your pull,
Its a great thing to say your book of life is full.
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Most of my poems are written on the spot. This was a premise I thought had some sort of meaning and could be taken forward onto mean more. Everybody has their own book, it's your pages and up to you to write the words. Nobodies book is boring or lame in the end, its your life and once you have a chance to look back on it, you realize that your pages are good pages.
Thank you for reading, I have learned more as I wrote it and this paragraph.