A book of poems on the shelf
That cannot open by itself
But needs a hand to turn the page
And read words from another age
It’s been sitting there for years
It stands alone amongst its peers
It’s words forgotten as time marched on
It’s readers some now past and gone
I dare reach and pull it out
The well worn spine cracks with a shout
It now falls open at a page
That’s waited patiently to take the stage
The words are read with tearful eyes
As memory clouds like darken skies
And then my eyes light up the path
Mr giraffe still makes me laugh
01/05/2021
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