Books

Books, books and more books

All perfectly aligned in their respective rows

Some old

Some new

And even some in between

 

My finger runs across the spines

As if a simple touch will allow me the joys of the story

I pick up the old ragged yellowed book

I feel bad for it

It looks lost in a sea of fish

 

The overwhelming smell fills my nostrils

It’s a promise of forgotten stories,

Unloved tales that have been left in the dirt,

Pale in comparison to the brightly colored jackets of their rivals

 

I ease into a chair my eyes never once leaving the page

Hoping I catch every little detail

Never missing the simplest act

Here in this place I am home

I am home

Reviews

[SleeplessVolcano]

Oh how beautiful a book is.......I love my Kindle, but it just does nt smell like the pages of a book! I have books older than a 100 years on my shelf and apart from what it contains, my imagination also takes me to the hands and fingers touching those pages........thanks for this vivid poem!!