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A New Page Turning ...

If I were a book,
The breeze would catch through my pages,
Displaying them, rotating and reversing them like a leaf turning round and round.
If I were a book,
I’d let the glimmering, fluttering fairies steal out of me into the world,
I’d barricade the devious villains to protect the world from any further evil.
If I were a book,
My spine would be stroked lovingly before being opened,
My cover would be as bright as the sun,
With golden lettering twinkling in the light,
My pages would be caressed with every child that reads me.
If I were a book,
My creamy, white pages,
Would develop into old, yellow crusty ones due to age,
I’d be the favourite possession of a child who’d love me more than anything.
If I were a book,
I’d like to enter the story, to feel the lush green grass under my blurb,
To touch the fluffy, white clouds drifting past,
To gaze at the sapphire-blue sky,
To ride on a horse,
To venture in a wood.
But no, I’m not a book . . .

by Sahar Abedipour (9)
London


Competition - Poetry Detectives

Copyright remains with the author.