The Book

What is a book? its title bright
Captures the passing eye,
Yet we are happy to chance
Our repose in advance,
Do we ever really know why?

What is a book? it sits on the shelf
Its binding gathering dust,
But yet in its power
To value the hour
We place our absolute trust.

What is a book? it has no life
Unless you open the page,
Are its covers filled
With wisdom distilled,
Or as empty as the age?

What is a book? a pretty idea
Inducing inanimate vision,
It’s a view of life
With its vices rife,
But can we cope with transition?

What is a book? it serves no use
Without it quicken the mind
It’s a passing phase
Across your gaze,
Can it leave a new truth behind?

Indeed because,

A book is a voyage created for those
Who wish to life’s mysteries unravel,
It changes the mind
Of all mankind
Who have the courage to travel.
A book is a door into worlds unknown,
A window on thinking unseen;
It’s a tool for tomorrow
Which any may borrow
To travel new roads to dream.

© Margaret Montrose

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