The Book

You were walking in the park.
Dark atmosphere.
Alone,down the stony path.

After all the tears you shed.
Thoughts were loud in your head.
You did not feel like going to bed.

Your heart hurts,so does your head.
As you walk down the path,your eyes dart towards something.
Mystery,divine.

A book,written with ink despite the limit of time.
With golden leaves on the cover.
Set aside next to a four leaf clover.

And the words you read with power.
It showers you with hope.
And you manage to cope.

The book knew your secrets.
Your pain,your woes.
As if somebody brushed a tear off your face.

Soon,a smile appeared on your face.
You sit down and read.
Proceed with happy laughter,as the book gives you all you need.

And you fell better and happier,indeed.
A the book lets you travel.
All the emotions and worlds you unravel.

They stay in the sun.
Sun,shining on the pages.
And you visit new places.

Hidden among the golden pages.
Some say reading is not fun.
But how is traveling not fun?

In reality,it helps you escape your problems.
In new worlds,it heals your woes.
And opens new ,shiny doors.

With mystical,magical floors.
You enter and feel the hope.
And with a couple visit,you cope.

No matter slow or fast.
For comfort is the book's task.
There is a spell you just need to cast.

By reading the magical words and entering new worlds.
With  a cast of a pen,anything can happen.
Just you wait and see!

Imagining new worlds as you read me.
For comfort is my goal.
I cast a spell with ink,happiness flow.