You are the pages and the book,
the paper and the pencil.
You are the milk
and the cookies.
You are the glow of the moonlight,
and the pretzel and the salt.
However, you are not the light in the stars,
the tomatoes on the taco,
or the stripes on the flag.
And you are certainly not the lavender scented soap.
There is just no way that you are the lavender scented soap.
It is possible that you are the secret message in a bottle under the boat,
maybe even the stars on the US flag,
but you are not even close
to being the mystery in the mystery novel.
And a quick look in the mirror will show
that you are neither the cobwebs on the ceiling
nor the mouse in the walls.
It might interest you to know,
speaking of the plentiful imagery of the world,
that I am the sound of pages turning.
I also happen to be the wishing well,
the creativity in writing
and the Hermione Granger in the real world.
I am also the owl in the tree
and the volunteer at a homeless center.
But don't worry, I'm not the pages and the book.
You are still the pages and the book.
You will always be the pages and the book,
not to mention the glow and--somehow--the moonlight
