Have you ever made a home in a book?
Settle beneath the pages
And breath in the inky air
Hang photos of past loves on the Y's
And rest on the sturdy T's
Danced between the lines
And cryied in the spaces.
There is something to be said
About a book for a home
Because there's nothing More magical
Then Another a world of it's own.
So one day I hope
That you'd find your world
One where the words are more then ink
And spaces fill with silent cries.
For what is a home
that refuses to make you think.
YOU ARE READING
Buried Time
PoetryPoetry, is a gift for the world to bare no mater how brutal. In these pages, are my poems from a rage of topics. Each is about a moment held dear or a time in my life, some I have buried deep within myself. Or the poems are deeply buried within me...
