Birth of a book
A book was born
One sunny,
Windy,
Day.
My fingertips
Explored its breath-
The glossy top
Of its head,
The rising of its arms in prayer...
Bursting with sound to say
The silence dancing
Sparkling,
Swaying,
Armor raised up
in brilliant light,
A gravity pulling-
From the inside
As my thumb grazed its middle
A quiet that
was longing to call,
its stiff minila droplets
to pour
like a waterfall
Bumbling baby-
Battering my heart...
With jewled eyes
That break
The bluest of skies
apart.
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