His eyes are tired, ready to rest, though his heart and mind were ever restless. For they all knew of a life and love story that was born too soon, and is now an old man's inner rambling about what could have been.
A book someone thought it'd turn to dust the moment he'd open it to read the words, see the pictures, watch the story unfold.
The narrator holds the story close to his heart, and so he wants, and so he cares, and is afraid, and yearns, the words, about the words, of the words, for the words.
And he forms a smile. A story no one will ever be able to take from him.
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