Let’s begin at the beginning
Because there’s no other place to start.
At least for us lame humans.
That only have one heart.

We must live time in order.
From day to day to day.
Always moving forward
No matter what we say.

At least that’s true in real life
Where everything makes sense.
But in books and poems and stories
There isn’t even a fence

Writers can jump from past to present to future
Follow a little red line
And just do whatever they please.
But only in the pages sewn into a spine.

Despite all of their freedom,
Books still have to start.
Especially for us humans
Because we only have one heart.