Pages

Mon, 10/03/2016 - 22:31 -- Ayawn

Rifling through the

Pages

The sweet smell of 

Paper

And ink, as it makes aware its

Presence.

Oh sweet words that capture me and make a 

Participant 

In your stories. I cannot begin to

Perceive how letters strung into sentences that are combined into

Paragraphs

Make so many beautiful

Palaces 

All confined to the 

Prism 

Of my mind.

Pleasure

For me can only be found in a good book.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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