An Ode to Books

Page after page, word after word,
With your stories so bold, you have me lured.

Each fantasy is real, as the people you bring,
From Atticus Finch, to Piggy and King.

Crisp paper is turned, and its old scent is found,
Black words on white, all around they surround.

I am always so thrilled to thumb through your tale,
I enjoy your company, for you please without fail.

I once again turn the sheet that reveals
Your secrets and truths that were previously sealed.

A small waft of the musty, yellowing covers
Which holds the voices I have yet to discover,
Leaves its scent upon me.

Oh, how I appreciate your consistency and patience,
As I sit engrossed with no presence but silence.

I tip my hat off to the books of the world,
As they bring such great wonder, and let minds unfurl.

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