the book with no title

I looked through a library today, And found a quite different book, It had no title, no author, nothing. But each page was like a story. A story of a life. And not one was like another. But eventually, it stopped. No more words, no more anything. Just the white of the blank pages staring back. And I wondered, why? What happened? My curiosity growing like a child having a growth spurt, I checked it out, Took a pen, And began writing my story. Although not finished, it's filled to the brim with laughs, tears, and love. And no matter how many times it slipped from my mind, I always continued. Day by day, Week by week, Month by month, And although the fee went up and up like a hot air balloon, I kept writing. And it's still being written, It may be finished in a day, or eighty years But now it has a title, It always did, The Story of Us.