The Sunday Whirl

Find the prompt here

Book Love

Books to me are golden
like honey from the bees
like sap slowly leaking
from trunks of maple trees.
The words are sweet as sugar
satiating my mind’s needs
a hunger for the language
leaving my head with a seed
No broken lines are taken
as a sign of things to come
for words are always with me
silky sounds in my ears hum
the black upon the pages
wind round and round each line
a dust around a knick knack
Each speck is solely mine.
My family knows I’m feeling
that books are here for good
a truckload of the bindings
I’ve read as many as I could.

©2022 CBialczak Poetry

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