Poem #12

Books (12)

Books with their many tales,
Shouting out from their cages,
And if not read they cry and wail,
For, they are priceless pages.
"Fly free now!" I shout to them as I pass,
I say" Let your knowledge be shared, (give me your pearls)"
But then I hear a bell and say, "I'll be late to class, goodbye!"
I'll tell my story to all who'll listen, yet none care.
Books, lying on the shelf,
They gather up bugs and dust,
In the dark and shadows they dwell,
Yet, unlike iron, they do not rust.
Books filled with words and dreams,
They are like a light beam.