#UnopenedPages
When knowledge you yearned, you needed me most,
You haven't visited my home since,
Am I a bad host?
I'm housed in a building that's tidy and kept,
The floors, always freshly mopped and swept,
The rugs are vacuumed and pristine,
The windows always squeaky clean.
But what about my collection of books?
They're shelved next to me, please take a look.
I myself am a poetry book.
Will you stay, and take a look?
My pages yellowed like eyes of a drinker,
My spine, fragile with age,
A stain on each page.
I've lost agility, my pages now clump together,
But I'm still worth the wage, even though you can't quickly turn my page.
It doesn't mean I'm worth less,
I can add wisdom to you, like nothing else.
I miss your gentle touch,
The caress of your highlighter, bookmark,
I miss our alone time, oh so much.
Won't you pull up a chair, and let me in?
To your imagination, I once lived in?
I know your phone has taken my place,
You read books on it,
A slap to my face...
But if you ever want to go down memory lane,
I am here in my home, housed in shame.

© artisticdreamsss