Books

 

The smell tangles with her nose

The ripe aroma of adventures

Spiked with the outrageous scent

Of  betrayal, love, and anxiety.

 

It is gloomy in here, the room

Full to the brim with the lives

The souls of others

Lining shelves, waiting for their turn.

 

She smiles, and glides her hands

Along the dusty, rough shelves.

As she decides how to escape

To another place, but never go at all.

 

Which tale should she become enraptured in?

What about the strong girl who

Betrayed others wishes, to be who she was?

Or the man, who lost everything because

He was just to greedy?

 

It was all in the  pages, rough

And warped with age and used

But oh so beautiful

Calling to take her away.

Author's Note

This is what books mean to me. An escape, and adventure, doing something I can't but don't have the ability too.

Reviews

[Brette Medb]

This poem reflected basically my entire life and I loved every word of it! Books have a magic of their own and yet so many people care not for them, but who could resist going on a free vacation or a dangerous adventure without ever leaving home? Great write!

Brette