I know it well, the feel of age
Inside a book where every page
Sets mind ablaze with answers. Look!
The truth is hidden in a book.
And wisdom, time, and love, as the reader will tell
Leap from the page and coalesce: I know it well.
It's magic, this. There is no art
Like words and letters, merely parts
Like brushstrokes, paint, on canvas white
Dispelling ignorance. 'Tis right
To see the might of books as dragons in our midst,
Capturing imagination; It's magic, this.
postscript
For day 18 of --the wrapped refrain. A syllabic form, wherein the first four syllables of each stanza become the last four, and the first four lines have eight syllables and the last two, twelve.