My friends are made of
Leather and ink and
Thinning paper that holds the secrets
Of a thousand years
Wrapped up, stored, for all to see.

My companions are time travelers
And historians
And explorers from distant lands
Whose name I can’t pronounce.
They are lovers who speak in rhyme
And villains sick of the world,
And heroes with lion’s souls.

They are trapped forever,
Ageless and timeless,
Immortal in a world of ink –
Of white etched with black –
But they bring colour
And they bring life.

My best friends live
In book shelves
Where my soul forever rests,
Between an aisle and another,
Sitting with a friend in hand
And the silence of their home orchestrating.

And long after their home is closed
Their shadow rests in my heart
And follows me home.

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