Metamorphic Time Machine

My library shelves are two feet away
From my wingback chair near the hearth
The books old in a well handled way
Within easy reach of my restless touch

This small divide becomes far horizons
Once a book is opened and reading begins
My chair a time machine traversing eons
From the Mesozoic to the future's reigns

Unbound by fettered time and space
I flee from these extant dreary drudges
To Grey Seas Under and Without A Trace
Immersed in characters amok in struggles

Heroes and villains eagles and doves
In heroic deeds and searing trysts
A panorama of life not lived but loved
That race my heart with rare beau gests

Poetry by josephus The PoetBay support member heart!
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Written on 2020-01-19 at 03:30

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Kathy Lockhart
And your poetry took me there for awhile. It is such magic.
Thank you for sharing. It's wonderful.

"There is no Frigate like a Book," as Emily Dickinson observes, and here you've observed the same truth in an equally skillful and winsome way. So much to like here.