Little Book Poem by Purity Chapel

Look at the lone book,
its delicate threads fading in haste.
It is like a newborn babe,
fragile to Life and her imminent waste.

Hungry Reader, do not delight in its chaste state.
Please, hold on to it with cautious Grace.
For one never knows the potential tale,
of the various adventures it will face.

Quickly now! Save it from drowning
in Dust, Time's destined typhoon.
The pages will be inflicted with endless wounds,
scattered over its body's impending doom.