“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Saturday, October 8, 2016
Page sniffers
There was a time when-
They will say...
From what remains-
We can tell-
Stories.
Ago.
In this time,
Through these
They found each other &
This is how by smell...
Through the ages
sealed between the pages
Vials of hermetic memory...
Though this does not last-
the notes have all but died-
Faintly, there is a sense
only Paper People
remember Reading.
Painting by Paul Cézanne [Public domain], via Wikimedia Commons.
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