If you put an open book on your face and breathe in the softness of the pages, And your cheeks feel the heaviness of the words pressed against them: You will absorb all the knowledge inside of the book And the story will sink into your skin, like warmth after a long day in the sun.
If your pyjamas smell like the sun, They have disappeared into the back of your wardrobe And gone back home when you were asleep Returning when the sun peeks in through the lines in your walls.
If it is late in the morning Then the morning loves you and your sleepy face and the quietness of your thoughts as you wake.
All rights reserved to Macayla :-) please don't copy/steal, each poem I post is usually something I am proud of.