i miss the feeling of

bound paper in my hands

full of secrets the whole world

has access to yet few choose

to indulge in the secrets

that rest right in front of them

imagination seems to be

a thing of the past



there's a certain amount

of personal pleasure one

seeks when reading

that not all novels are capable of.

those that are are precious,

and you feel almost selfish

when you hold it close

and read its beauty.



i miss the unspoken joy

literature and a good plot

grant me and i am at once

satisfied from heart to mind.



it's the book lullaby

i enjoy the most

the calm, rhythmic words

forming sentences, pages, books....

they lull me to sleep

and i dream, dream, dream

of worlds and people

i will never be lucky enough to meet.

people say they aren't real

fictional, they call them

but it's more than that

these characters taught me more

than any other human has come close to.

their unique originality

i cannot find anywhere else

but in the combination of letters

that we call books



and it's this book lullaby

that keeps me loving, caring,

it's the source of my passion

and the source of my dreams

sweet, sweet inspiration

that is one of a kind