Books literature beauty
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Opened pages
white and black
eyes see ink and bleach
and a coffee stained corner
take me away
to adventure and wonder
Paper back and hard cover too
mystery and horror to scare you
Where do we see our true selves?
In the reflection of a mirror
That often tells us lies.
Or maybe in those around us,
Those who support and care,
Literature
Lit the fire under her.
Starting her days
Under early morning rays,
She reads a quote, word, or poem,
Now the world is hers to join.
An expression of fear, inspiration, or will,
How is it everything lines up so perfectly?
From the breeze of the California air to the turning of the pages,
The words of the brilliant Rupi Kaur, capturing the hurt that I've been trying to process all these years,
With your story
you inspired me to open up my mind
and fill it with ideas that have no limit
With your pages
you encourage me to dream of new worlds
On an Island that no one know
The seeds of sorrow a shipwreck sowed
To nip these off at the bud
Let me tell you what I love
The books of old would do just fine
To help me pass the spacious time
You have taken me to many places;
Exotic lands I never would have dreamed.
The places where the master still traces;
Places where people danced and castles gleamed.
Heroes wept when their families had died;
My old friend, my book
What a beautiful thing
Contained within its pages
A gaitway to thinking
