The Final Page Poem by Richard Trembath

Write to me one day
And tell me of the second half:

Though we have gone our separate ways
To live our separate lives
I know enough of yours
To feel that I've read half the book,
And though it is no longer
Mine to read
I think of you occasionally
And wonder
What the unread chapters hold.

But even if I were to find the book
And learn somehow
Where life has taken you,
I know I'd never really know
The whole of it - your hidden mystery.

And I am well aware
That there would be
No point in skipping through
The unseen chapters, to find
Just how the story ends:

For it will end as we both
Knew it would -still unresolved.

The final page is missing.