The Excitement of a New Book

As I turn the page I start to think,
What is the deeper meaning within this ink?

Where was it made?
With such a big aid,
It ought to be sold
In the many countries it’s told,

The bark thread,
Weaving the book to its bed
The smooth cover,
As soft as a feather from a plover,

I run my fingers along the spine
The perfect book, nothing out of line,
The excitement of opening it up,
Would be enough for even a small pup,

As I start to open it,
My hands shivering like a kit
I think about the many stories it’s told,
And I wonder what the book will hold.