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reading books is like seeing
endless stories weaving
words of magic
like light filtered
through glass prisms
creating soft rainbows
on the squares of
maple floor that lie
beneath her bare feet
like shifting paradigms
settling adrift as a
snowy blanket of seeds
from cottonwood trees
in Spring
when the rivers run
swift and high
filled with the melting
of snow from Winter
so it is with mixed feelings
that a story ends
as when leaves die and
drift to the ground
in Autumn
she awaits with anticipation
the beginning
of another story
that will weave
words of magic
again
© July 2013
Renee Espriu
reneejustturtleflight.com 