Old Books
Old books.
Tumbling off the shelf.
I thought that old books-
Could never be broken.
Could never be torn.
Old books.
Flying around.
The words fall out of the pages.
Old books.
Tell us things that could kill us.
Paper cuts.
Old books.
Don’t change their minds.
Plastered on the walls.
In my handwriting.
Are wild guesses.
Old books.
Have been on the shelf.
For decades, or centuries.
I have been alive for 27 years.
Old books.
Can never be happy.
They sit still.
I used to as well.
Old books.
Tumbling.
Fall out of the pages.
Wild guesses.
Alive.
They used to.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
