Octpowrimo #2 – Kabul, 2012

she dreams of books,

imagines the stories are scented with

time’s perfume;

 

she dreams of books,

imagines the pages feel

like a lover’s satin sigh;

 

she dreams of books,

imagines their covers are

mystic treasure;

 

she dreams of books,

imagines their characters pour

forth truth in ancient whispers;

 

she dreams of books,

imagines their ideas taste

like honeyed freedom…

 

but she cannot read

and freedom’s hope is lost in an

incoherent hive of truth.

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