The Book
A dusty book on a dusty shelf,
Eating away the years.
Destroyed by time like everything else -
The yellowing pages fade.
Does this book hold secrets to learn?
In its isolated world,
This book draws me to it,
To lose myself on every page.
As I draw closer
The book calls to me.
I stretch out my hand, I try to reach,
But I can't hold on to the truth.
I want this book, I need its wisdom -
It calls me ever closer.
But I can't tell why I need it so,
This book, untouched through all the years.
Copyright © Catriona Elizabeth Mowat 2006
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