In my hands, I held,
was it true?
How could it be
true, and real?
Could not be
true, not real.
Yet, I saw and felt
it in my hands,
a book for real,
and on the cover new
a name I knew,
impossible, but
could not be:
my own name,
as author name,
how could it be
really truly me
on that book too.
