Love Story

Wrinkled beyond its years,
Yellowed with age,
Musty, leathered skin
Enveloping its sinewy lines.
Discarded by another
Amongst the Mills and Boons,
Forlorn in its isolation.

Yet, it has survived the continental shift
Helping me feel at home in this new home.

I hear its voices
Calling me,
Kathy,

Steering me word wards,
To where my Byronic hero lives again,
To where Katherine will forever roam.
Oh hours of joy:
My first love,
My weathered edition,
Wuthering Heights.