Garden of Pages

Ink flutters through the halls of dust
Unread tales of dragons and magic
Oak shelves stretch high in the sky
Pictures and pictures that speak and fight
My body ingrown
Like vines in a cave
This place always has something to say
The words that crawl out of the page
I will always wonder what happens next
The ripped-up carpet crowded with facts
As I sit on a red armchair I’m reading my favourite
In a garden of pages.