The Titleless Book

By
Nameless; a naked leather spine,
My favorite book to read at half past nine,
Pages of old; my favorite scent,
Tears threaten my eyes if corners are bent.

Each time I read it, it's different every time,
Sometimes a story and others; a poem of rhyme,
A name is limit, where's the imagination?
Just let you mind go and make a creation.

My lamp illuminates the yellowish pages,
Once my mind is off and reading, everything encages,
The case is empty; it's the only one on the shelf,
There are thousands of possibilities; just the book and myself.





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Inola de'Barderac said...
Oct. 5, 2008 at 6:50 pm
This was an assignment for school. I got so into it that I actually enjoyed it. I know somethings may need rewording but, it's the original and i don't wish to change what is done.
 
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