Some books, I never get to finish.


I close the covers, gingerly; afraid to wake the words,

And while they’re sleeping, fitfully,

I place it on a shelf.


A dark shelf

In a dusty room,

In a place I used to live.


They may dream their fearful dreams

With no more help from me

And I will start another book,

And maybe,

I’ll be free.


Wendy Anne Darling   4/9/2016


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