The Book

The Book

What is a book? its title bright

Captures the passing eye,

Yet we are happy to chance

Our repose in advance,

Do we ever really know why?

What is a book? it sits on the shelf

Its binding gathering dust,

But yet in its power

To value the hour

We place our absolute trust.

What is a book? it has no life

Unless you open the page,

Are its covers filled

With wisdom distilled,

Or as empty as the age?

What is a book? a pretty idea

Inducing inanimate vision,

It’s a view of life

With its vices rife,

But can we cope with transition?

What is a book? it serves no use

Without it quicken the mind

It’s a passing phase

Across your gaze,

Can it leave a new truth behind?

Indeed because,

A book is a voyage created for those

Who wish to life’s mysteries unravel,

It changes the mind

Of all mankind

Who have the courage to travel.

For

A book is a door into worlds unknown,

A window on thinking unseen;

It’s a tool for tomorrow

Which any may borrow

To travel new roads to dream.

© Margaret Montrose www.thegoldenpath.co.uk