The EndA Poem by Bad Poetry
Getting a new book coming down stairs on christmas morning.
the exiting feeling of not knowing what you will get is electrifying. the turning of each crisp page is magic. As the story goes on time stops in its tracks. as the end grows near i find it not wanting it to end. my tear lands on the last page just as i close the book.
© 2013 Bad PoetryAuthor's Note
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6 Reviews Added on February 9, 2013 Last Updated on February 9, 2013 Author
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