Jan 03

Old forgotten souls

The worn books
Now fall apart when you open them.
The stories that used to sweep you in
Now lie in illegible ink.
The old forgotten souls that would create these paths
Leave a piece of them in the books,
Just so they would never be forgotten.
The books that used to live and breathe magic
Are overtaken and thrust to the side.
All until one little girl,
Eyes ever so curious,
Her fingers delicate and caring,
Lifts the book and finds a seat,
Her eyes put to work, reading, while the old souls
Get remembered once more.