Devouring a Book

My book lays open by the fire, as evening stretch and yawn again below my shoulder whispers flow, through white lace curtains then through rain-- To somewhere near, yet far away, where unsung heroes touch the day Where eyes hold lines and understand, in such a perfect natural way. That sometimes stories write themselves before they feel the need to live, and sometimes awe is realized so much to feel, so much to give. Before the pages turn once more through white lace curtains, through the hall and mystery bleeds in my eyes where fire throws shadow on the wall. So I read on, the smoke serpents reel about my dream -dressed face, And verses paint beautifully their texture igniting a place-- while nights turn minutes like old age and tired fire dragons droop and creep between the edges of a page. As morning sun-rays slowly weep in a corner of inner gloom, of bracelet jingling waking shade that I awake and around the room, oblivious of a timed noise I give a shrill and tremble on; upon chapters to writhe inside and gulp a book, forgetting dawn. Jamie's interesting contest 1 Theme: The feeling of getting lost in a book Feb 20, 2017