There were only six pieces
To make the little bookcase
Two sides, a back, two shelves
And underneath all these a base
It took me about twenty minutes
To ensure the joints were tight
It looked quite neat as it stood there
All new and clean and white
The next morning I arrived to see
In tribute to quill and pen
That the shelves were loaded to the brim
With books about the Mister Men
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
this is one warm and happy tell of one inanimate heart that beats earnestly from the words of the books it holds... it made me look over to my bookcase twice, once after reading the title and once more after I finished reading it... sweet poem...