Dear Diary,
Today I wrote in you,
but also in another,
I think no less of you,
and may I never waver.
This book was old and weathered,
most pages lifeless and torn,
but it's magic drew me closer,
finding hope in the undone.
It lifted me into the sky,
with the milky galaxy,
but I'm afraid I can't agree,
with morals testing my morality.
So today when you watch me drift away,
do not feel sad or lost,
you'll find your writer someday,
in sea o' ship a tossed.
-K. B.
