The BOOK

I am a book, I’m all alone and I have no shelf where I can stand,
Is this the way that it should be, or is there another plan?
How I long for many, to pick me up, and read me,
But all I can do is wait and wait and maybe it will be.

Nobody knows who I am, or knows my author’s name,
But work involved in birthing me, like other books is the same.
It took many years to write and edit me; at least four editions arose,
But finally the day arrived, the final one came to a close.

Then I realized one day, it did not matter, the number who would read me,
Even if my words could help one person, how exiting that would be.
I decided that I would be happy, for the few who would open my cover,
This is a very important truth that I a book, had to discover.

One day, to my surprise my author brought me to a wonderful place,
A church library decided that I could stand up in a very special space.
They placed me on a shelf next to many other important books,
I will be thankful for one person who opens me and looks.