The lost diary

An old diary,
and it's unwritten pages,
was dusted down today.
After almost ages.

And the ones,
which had a story to tell,
had been washed out.
By time's long spell.

I picked it up,
to read it's last page.
It had all those lost emotions of the writer,
as if captured in a cage.

The yellowing pages,
stared me under the sunlight.
It wanted me to write my story.
That someday, I might.

And then hide again,
under the waves of time.
Again to be re-discovered,
but this time the story would be mine.

With flowing time,
flowed my pen.
I wrote my heart down,
some in sunshine, some in rain.

Then one day,
the Diary wasn't seen again.
It had hidden itself
Taking away all my pain.