books
by Matthew Stokdyk
the whitish walls
the wooden beams
the plaster falls
on paper leaves
these ancient books
as old as stone
their faded looks
in this cold home
where once we lived
and read our books
oh what i’d give
to see you look
upon my face
through watered eyes
to see through me
and bookish lies
Originally published on Instagram on April 24th, 2019, as part of a poem-a-day project I did for National Poetry Month.