For Writer’s Island on the prompt for Curiosity:

Crisp, they have a sound and smell of their own

As one after the other is turned

And avid eyes scroll down

Drinking it all in;

A new book

That has caught the eye of the bookworm;

Treated with care

For the treasures held captive

Within the pages;

If the reader had listened into an actual conversation

OF the kind he was reading about

People would call it morbid curiosity;

Now that he reads it instead

It no more is curiosity

But a thirst to know more;

Day turns to night

Another page is turned

For life for the bookworm

Depends on the turning of another page.


2 thoughts on “Bookworm

  1. Yeah Agreed! 🙂 Books are like those hidden treasure troves, awaiting us to capture in their wonderland. For each, his kind. A sense of private enrapture.
    Glad to see u back Ms.Bookworm.. Kind of missed my daily dose of CR. 😉


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