Books

We are all a little bit like a book inside

Our beginnings are rough

Our pages are torn

Our bindings are frayed 

And our covers are worn

But still inside

Our stories gleam

Singing what's been forgotten

Through starstruck dreams

And every once in a while

When we least expect it

Someone special will come along

And ignore what's decrepit 

They'll turn through our pages

Savor every word

And listen to our thoughts

Though they may be absurd

These few people we meet

Those that listen

Are the ones that last in our minds

The ones that practically glisten

Reviews

[steppenwolf]

Lovely.

[Pawprints]

Thank you :)

[.]

~ beautiful... just beautiful... i agree so much with the spirit with which you've written this gorgeous poem... excellent work, M. ...

[Pawprints]

Thank you, Serah...:)

[.]

~ you're very welcome... :)