Words That Go Together Well Poem by Mike Gift

some said we were born as an empty book,
only with covers.
paintings, words, stories,
pretties or uglies,
filled us up as we live on our lives,
long as we hold our breath,
stories thus continue to tell.
he just stood there,
as if a book waiting for your little hand to flip through it,
for you to read, to understand, to be excited of,
will you be interested in it, will you?
some books shine through their gorgeous covers,
some do not but to hide behind the ordinary,
perhaps ugly cover.
is it the cover that draws your hand?
or just so happened, inexplicably,
that this one book made you felt it could be read,
over and over again,
and you will never get bored of it,
it's simply wonderful,
words in words,
lines between lines,
pages within pages,
you discovered more and more as you read,
as fantasy as it could be,
you would make marks on this book,
an explanation, a thought, or just symbols,
that only you could apprehend,
it accumulated as memories, replies
or maybe it would be,
a dialog.
there're lives in this book,
which you placed your lives competing with its pace,
you thought you knew the story, and you're in it,
but you are way behind it.
one may have many books,
on the shelves, under the bed, in the toilet,
and which do you actually read it?
she stood there, like a book,
that i wanted to read dearly,
no matter how wayward it is.
wishing my name would be written on it,
and there'll be chapters and chapters,
that have me as the title.
i have read those could be seen,
now i wanna read the unread, the unseen,
and this might just be the beginning of the reading.
if i were able to read this book of yours,
will you read mine too?
for this book is written for you, ma belle.