Let me intoduce myself,
I live upon a dusty shelf.
With other sorts who do the same.
I have a title to my name.
I have a jacket without sleeves.
I'm not a plant, yet I have leaves.
It's also true, I'm not a tree,
Through that is what I used to be.
I'm full of words, but cannot speak.
I sometimes vanish for a week.
And then return to my dear nook.
You've guessed it - I'm a library book.
