The words asleep in aging books—
Behind their spines, the world still looks.
Each grain of dust a tale unsaid,
Each breath I take revives the dead.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe
The words asleep in aging books—
Behind their spines, the world still looks.
Each grain of dust a tale unsaid,
Each breath I take revives the dead.
From A Poem A Day: All Continental Europe
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