Ode to the Books


On a broken shelf, the last wonder resides
Yes, that is where you tend to hide
Your cover, dusty and worn
Your spine completely torn
But even if your appearance is a shame
Your story continues just the same
Your pages and edges are rough with wear
Alas, your past owners did not care
For the fragility of your pages is tender
Pages unopened for centuries, finally turning
How it brings me so much splendor
The breakdown of your pages, almond scented
Your story in my heart cemented
Your magnificence hidden from sight
Yet you used to bring them great delight
My friendship with you is real
You've comforted me in every ordeal
When I get bored, I flip through your pages
And go on a journey, no one has in ages
But when the journey's finally finished
My fondness of you is still unblemished
But you must return to that dusty shelf
Till someone stumbles upon you again

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