O dearest books your words penetrate my very soul.
You fill me with light, a light I have never known.
You are joy beyond words.
My imagination goes with each word that enters my being.
I could not live without your inspirational magic, your addicting flow, your inevitable way of getting me hooked to your plot.
You take me places I have never been, show me things I have never seen.
I can smell the sweet scent of pine trees; I can feel the rough, gritty stone of the castle; I can see the light in the eyes of the hero as they fight their final battle.
O dear books, filled with creativity
...you are mine.
YOU ARE READING
Will's Ode to Books
PoetryThis is an ode by Will, but he he is too much of a lazy git to write it himself, so of course he turns to me. Personally I find this poem to be over dramatic, but that's Will for you.
