I walk up to the bookshelf,
Pick out an old book,
Blow away the dust,
Flick a few pages,
Put it back again,
Maybe another day.
I pick up another,
It’s an old book,
A little dog-eared,
A jutting bookmark,
A few missing pages,
I think I'll make my own story.
Drifted in from somewhere, quite liked your thought process.
ReplyDeletei read first three poems..but this one is really good..it got me tempted to leave a comment..cheers
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