Sonnet №80 — within a book
The printed page, a mainstay in my life,
is where I go when questions run too deep.
When papers fill with violence and strife,
within a book, my soul is free to weep.
Smells of paper wafting upwards; warming.
Flecked speckles on the paper; buds in bloom.
Your new book’s spine crackles; thunder storming.
The imprint on the cover; peaceful plume.
A book will take you places you are yearning,
to visit, yet you’ll never find the time
A way to satisfy your life’s burning
A need to leave a swath of life behind.
The printed page; heft that gives true essence
to heart and mind, the gift of quintessence.
— — August 2020
Thank-you for reading & thinking.
