For _oncer
Books were stacked everywhere,
Cluttering every polished floor
By the bed, by the window pane,
Under pillows and by the forgotten toy train;
Some stacked neatly, with crisp white leaves
While others sat wilted, with dog-eared leaves,
There were so many around:
Books almost brushing against the ceiling,
Precariously swaying
With the breeze from the opened window,
Dispelling a sense of a literary calm:
A calmness,
stemming from a bibliophile's soul
YOU ARE READING
When The Heart Whispers
PoesiaThe poems reflect evergreen and intense emotions while others are as light and weightless as feathers. It's like the heart whispers softly, waiting to be heard. ~Vote and Comment~ © tanxsha [Previously warped_realities]
