The Bookshop Poets

A whispering of my words
Amongst millions of others
Sat upon the bookshop shelves
Humbling, and profound
Sharing our words of poetry
With the ever silent audience
That never recipricated
Remaining as quiet as mice
I never saw the secrets
Contained within their covers
Whilst awaiting their 'dog-ears'
A multitude of printed words
The majority of which
I will likely never read
I wondered
What if all these words
From all the books
Within the confines
Of just this one bookshop
Should escape their pages
Then i would no doubt
Drown in a deluge
Of black india ink
And a myriad thoughts
As i turn another page
Into the next chapter
Of my life

by Jemia