Leafing through a book

This poem was originally written on 7/02/2007

The softly falling

gently gliding

pages

that fall from my

hands.

Eyes that glimpse

mere words

that mean nothing

yet something

as they fall away

before I can

fully

grasp them.

I smell

dust and mold

and a newness

of the press

but I cannot fully know

that which I barely

see; it passes

and is gone and all I

can remember in the

dark corners of my mind,

is a face.

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One Comment Add yours

  1. RebeccaHJ says:

    Love your new blog and every evocative words here!

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