Words Among the Wreckage


She longed to be like the ocean, deep and mysterious,
But she was more like a half-open book waiting to be seen--
Stuck between the want to be read and the want to be closed
And placed carefully back on her rightful shelf.
Her bindings collected dust
And her words sat patiently,
Waiting to share the most valued of secrets.
I found her age-worn pages
And ran my fingers along the seams.
I stayed up for many moons reading her chapters,
Word for word taking in her unprecedented beauty,
Untouched by any man until now.
As words became sentences and sentences became chapters,
I saw the true wonders of the world
And through her eyes I saw the universe in a spectacular lens.
I fell in love with her through this.
What once was a dusty, forgotten book,
Is now a work of art praised by the literate.
I found great pleasure in reading her pages,
Each one filled with exquisite life.
I acquired a devouring desire to keep reading.

Poem Rating:
Click To Rate This Poem!

Continue Rating Poems


Share This Poem