Let the hours take me
in my need for you,
Fall into the solitary silence
let your words spark as I feel so true,
Cascade my mind
set my creativity free,
Allow me to ponder on your woven intricities
and all that they can be,
I get lost as you speed
you pick up the pace,
And my heart it beats faster
as with mystery you lace,
The plot thickens and my fingers burn
with each turn of the page,
Be good and let me fall into your words
as they get better with age,
You smell of wonder
of a past so bright,
And I get so lost to you
i don’t notice the fading light,
My eyes bright enraptured by your story
your characters come alive,
Your narrative swirls around me
mind first into the words I dive,
The story reaches its crescendo
just the conclusion still to come,
There’s a light shining through my window
the night is gone here is the sun….

.x.

….In a world where everything is digital and the way forward is electronic, there is something so profoundly erotic, so other worldly about stepping into an old book store. The sensory overload of smells, sights and sounds. The quiet knowledge of sight….of an art….a passion….slowly being discarded and forgotten….

Once upon a time books were bought as an extravagant luxury, they were  kept, loved and passed down generations. Now they are bought mostly as a thought while we are shopping for other things. They are read or half read, left on a shelf to get dusty and then either sold in a yard sale or given to a charity shop or second hand store….
When was the last time you held a real book….,

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