i am caught
trapped between these brittle pages
yellowing, they are old
lost in the words
i wander
escaping with the turn of a page
caught up in syllables
tangled in lines
never escaping, and yet
finding something new on each page
i can not turn away or close the book
for it would be like taking my final breath
YOU ARE READING
Pressed Flowers
Poetry"Remember me like a pressed flower in your notebook. It may not be having fragrance, but will remind you of my existence." -Unknown
