#UnopenedPages

in the the never ending loop
of Swift shadows swoop
i a luckless rubble lay
survived of artifacts ages ago so they say

I gasp for warmth
shriveled from lack of touch
only for the consistent chill
of the rusty termite wood of such

The creak of the rusty old door
and a new morn offers hope
wrapped in the a pretence of grandeur
a shriveled version of hope

the shuffling of feets
selection of books neat and bright
none do my sympathy meet
in this accursed shelf of a plight
a...