Old Book


There it sits
Alone among the new
Alone among the colorful
Its single color faded
Its title thin and simple

But held within its hard cover
Is a story unlike any other
Written upon yellow pages
In faded letters
Written by dead hands

A smell, old but rich
Wafts from its pages
Conjuring images
Countless images
Of old tales

There it sits
Forgotten and ignored
Yet those who seek old tales
Will always find this book

 

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