A book is like a spritely dance . . .
It takes me lightly, holds
my hand
Through starlit woods to
inner fountains led
It captivates the heart it
mends
A book is like a gifted
chance . . .
It comes to me, a thing of
light I had not seen
Through crowded halls to
ivory towers led
It delights the soul it
singles out
Poem from a Sequence:
A Rain of Booklight
Part 1 # 8
Part 1 # 8
(c) Judith Evans Deverell, 2014
The Bookmark Project
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