The Magnificent World Of Books:

AN ODE

The mind brought me a gift, little girl.

Rusting and vibrant with mold,

Does this key still turn?

I wish to mingle with the porpoises in the fathomless Atlantic,

Run like water through a sea of ink,

Boulders are letters that toss me on this wild ride!

This key won't turn, has all been lost?

Does the moon push the sun into a cavern of night,

Like I to books, petite to their brothers?

Scale oblivion until you find this world of imagination,

Alive with everything that dreams could bring.

I crave the magnificent world of books,

It's passionate whispers drawn out in phrase are gifts to me.

Pages are worn, but tales still new,

So gather 'round, and listen closely to the melody of the words,

Locked in this glue and staple bound cult of brothers.

You, book are like the pixie dancing in the blooming meadow,

Waving adieu to the passing blizzard.

You're teeming with new ideas; new questions, hiding the answers until your eyes close,

And your hardcover body softens in dust upon an empty shelf.

But no, I have this key, I have you,

Oh mighty book!

Spread your written wings,

And sail into my head, to take me to a land beyond my dreams.

Hide me in your valor and honor,

Your tales and your virtues,

And may this all-seeing eye pass over me,

While I stand before my case, gazing at your beauty.