I can hear the pages whisper
Their silent songs
As soon as the door is opened.
Lines of titles in their
And I slide one off the shelf,
Feeling the firm, cool weight in my hands.
The cover crackles,
A sharp sound in the quiet, and a
Soft, creamy white meets my eyes-
Snow pale, snow cold,
Beaten down with lines of black.
I can feel it.
Can you see it?
Can you see the way
The stars hang from the boughs of the trees,
As tantalizing as forbidden fruit,
Just out of reach of the mortals
Who would dare to pluck them from the sky?
Can you hear it?
Can you hear the raven
Mocking those who can't believe
While the lullabies laugh
On the sighing wind?
Can you feel it?
Can you feel the rough oak bark
Shiver under your hand,
The leaves raining down on your head
As the forest plants its roots
And grows around you?
Time has no meaning here, in the scholar's palace.
The stars wheel on in their
Fragile fairy lights
In a feathery sky.
The sun sinks,
I am lost in the solemn march,
The endless trickle of words
That make up my life, my soul, my breath.
Long after the candles
I read by the light
Of a sea-green moon.
Excellent work! Love this poem! I'm glad you entered the contest - otherwise I wouldn't have known about your work...
Awesomly coll. I love it!
Thanks! it came out better than I thought it would. Are you gonna enter the write for me contest?
This is written beautifully! I really enjoyed reading this. Well done!