Book Poem by David Harris
Book
Rating: ★5.0
A book lies dusty on a shelf,
its contents misunderstood,
an author’s child,
born out of blood sweat and tears.
Its pages fading corners,
now untouched by inquisitive fingers.
A book of knowledge,
soon to be lost in time,
as years take their toll in decay,
and old man’s dream,
is soon to rush to dust.
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4/24/2024 1:30:49 AM # 1.0.0.1119
The frustrated Author here me thinks, nothing one can do but hope one day it will be read...10