by Sarah Yang
Or is it?
It can come alive.
Or can it?
It opens an untouched world, and I can feel it.
It breathes, Woo, woo.
And speaks, Come, come.
And I open it, I unveil the hidden world.
And it's sensational.
Secrets and romance and more...It's all inside begging to be discovered.
I put it aside, but it can't just abide there.
Or can it?
It calls quietly, Come, come.
So I pick it up.
And it beckons once more, There's more...I'm curious, What more is there?
You'll see what more there is if you come with me.
I can't avert my attention.
Adrenaline escalating, I hastily open it,
I expose the hidden world, and it's astounding: Mysteries, gore, liberty;
I've opened up the door that has been keeping this world concealed.
Princes, queens, realms, dragons, lost love!
A redolence of spring, light and gay, wriggles through the pages to find its
way to radiate its aroma as I turn a page.
An overcast, vague landscape clouds my vision as an elaborate sketch of a
falling kingdom hovers above a page.
I stop to stare as a boy reaches out, offering me a slice of cake.
I gladly accept, and then he is gone, but the taste of the cake lingers on
my tongue; creamy, sweet, strawberry.
I turn faster and faster, page by page.
Briefly flipping by each page, I catch only glimpses:
Jaunty music, festivals, laughter, new found inventions.
Faster and faster I turn the pages.
The pages are now luminous, like an insatiable fire.
Finally, I cease.
The merry laughter, the happy children-all gone, all gone.
But then I really listen, I listen to my heart.
It's just begun.
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