Books

She was only obliquely referenced to,

a single line, writ thinly on the flyleaf

of a treasured book, slipping through

time and fingers, that so delicate

thumbed page on page until it came

to me.

'Read and be wise,' it said, 

'to my daughter Elizabeth with love.' 

No signature to cross my palm,

or tell the girl,

whose notes and scribbles

set in childish hand,

from vault and graveyard

still abide; as page on page

I slowly turn, sensing her

reading at my side.

Reviews

[NoelHC]

I don't know if you have a connection to "Elizabeth" or not, but I felt the connection to this poem for me, I haunt used book stores and often wonder about previous owners, previous readers, especially when there is an inscription in the flyleaf.
Sensing them reading at my side will likely come to mind next time I come across this in a book.

[Beccy]

No connection Noel, just a poetry book I purchased a few days ago that led me to wonder.

[Frieda P]

Such a charming piece, some words and sentiments live on through eternity, you've pen'd it so eloquently. Muchly enjoyed.