Books Under the Bower

From the paperback pamphlet, to the leather-bound tome,

It is in these great wonders I've found a warm home

For what better house in which to find rest,

Than in knowledge and laughter; It's life at its best


To my sanctuary I flee to escape the world's cares

I set myself free from its perilous snares

Now nothing can find me here under a bower

I'll sit here and read amongst birdsong and flower


Of dangerous quest and heroic deed,

My mind never wearies of books that I read

Engrossed in my book, I can find my heart broken

By sorrowful tales and cruel words that were spoken

Immersed in my story, it uplifts my soul

To see a kind hero achieving his goal


Whether woeful or glad these stories I read,

They always have morals of which to take heed

To read yet another is what my heart yearns;

To find a new book once the final page turns


And here I am now, late into the hour

A new book in hand, still under the bower

A long day of reading has given me peace,

But the shadows extend; my time here must cease


I stand up and depart; I have no concern

For at first light tomorrow, I will return

To this wondrous cause I've lent my devotion;

To read such grand books that bring forth emotion


It is in all books I have found the comforts of home

From the paperback pamphlet, to the leather-bound tome


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