Read Me Poem by Tisha Kratz

Although the book was closed,
you studied every little word on the cover.
You did not believe the bright colours,
nor the summary on the back.

Gently you tried to open the book,
knowing that almost every book has been written
in black and white.
And then you started to read and understand.

You saw the scratches and inkdrops,
the pages someone tried to rip out.
'What a shame' you said. 'Don't you know
that every word makes a story a story? '

'It's the reason it's so unique, no matter
how difficult, how painful, how confusing to read'
But perhaps the book was nothing for you,
for you put it back on the shelf