Pocket Book

yellow pages, with thin lines
held stiff, within a black spine
hard to uncover, yet so divine
the pages were empty, but the
smell of them, enlightened
the dusty places, in my mind

i sunk my hollow head, into the book
visionless, there was nothing to look
i sunk my heavy head, into the book
and the smell of rain took-
me away to the land of rain
and brown drenched wood-

the place i loved could only be
visited, through this pocket book
my home will always be between
the yellow pages of your book

-Kaya

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