The Book
The clicking sound of shuffling papers,
beautifully paired with a gentle wind.
Begging , pleading, just aching to be read;
a brand new book abandoned on a bench.
Beautifully paired with a gentle wind,
The smell of ink on paper bound by glue.
A brand new book abandoned on a bench,
hoping to be picked up by you.
The smell of ink on paper bound by glue.
That’s the call of a story,
hoping to be picked up by you.
Do you leave and walk away,
or do you hear what it has to say?
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: