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