Binding wavers and winces when opened,
Pages weeping from its worn cracked center,
Exposing tiny threads holding what,
Remains of its spine to its washed out words,
That were once so bold but now willowy,
Held by these humane hands,
No longer having the backbone to withstand,
All the weighty words it is expected to carry.
Pages weeping from its worn cracked center,
Exposing tiny threads holding what,
Remains of its spine to its washed out words,
That were once so bold but now willowy,
Held by these humane hands,
No longer having the backbone to withstand,
All the weighty words it is expected to carry.
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