I wonder what a book thinks?
I suppose it feels important
Containing knowledge, never forgetting.
Are there any books that wish they were printed differently?
A biography longing to be a fantasy novel?
Or maybe they’re just happy to have their own story
Maybe they listen to each other
Share their own stories
And stand together, packed on a shelf.
Pages dusty, spines worn, well-used and well loved
Opening into new worlds and ideas
Teachers eternal, so fragile, yet able to outlast us.
Stacked mile high
On shelves and desks
Hiding my floor in a carpet of knowledge.