I strolled through A library. T’was as abandoned In the hands of time As the proverbial Ozymandias.
It guarded a wealth of knowledge Under each leather wrapped parchment Like a pearl inside an oyster, just Not under Adam’s ale.
One of them, as abandoned as the former Stared at me, sitting in a Coze on the floor. ‘Mommy!’ it cried
In such a desperate and helpless manner. Instantaneously bonded I with it. It was one akin to a mother and her child Fragile, yet quite unbreakable.
All this in a book. Words I have not to say About that fervid day And how etched it is.
This poem shares an intimate bond between MARS and a book. MARS adopts the abandoned, lonely and weeping book as if it were the MARS's own child. A mix of archaic English and complex words let the reader bond with the poem as the MARS did with the book.