Books yellowed with age

Passed on from generation to generation.

Pages are worn,

Pages are torn,

Pages that are full of history.

The distinct aroma of ageing paper,

Fills my nose.

Words read by my Grandmother.

Stories enjoyed by my Father.

Missing covers and pages,

But a tale is still told.

Mysteries unfolding in a different time.

Bedtime stories told to another generation.

Books from my Grandmother,

That now belong to me.