Turning each page
You devour every word
Not thinking or blinking
You toss it aside
Only to pick it back up at a most opportune time
Skimming its pages
Trying to read inbetween the lines.
On a dusty shelf it lies
Waiting to be pick up once more
It’s pages faded and discolored
Some even torn.
Yet the same story exists as it always has before
Don’t judge it by its cover as this book remains to be explored.