The pages are smooth under my fingers;

The lines signify order, sequence,

A sense of understanding.

She welcomes new ideas and ripens creativity,

Feeding the soul with freedom of choice.

Her cover whispers softly, please pause.

Pen sways with order to create her personality,

Sanguine paradise with a hint of crazy.

Her spine is the truth within the individual

And her forest green lures authenticity.

The alluring fresh scent of paper draws the senses,

A personal Bible.

I will hold her in my hands,

With a gentle touch and a pen behind my ear.

We belong to each other as I number her pages,

Setting her straight as she keeps me centered.

Nourish me, my bullet journal, and I will never let you down;

My true supporter, my life-line.