This explains everything.
My passion for books, pages off white, dust-creamed,
Time-loved, hardly touched,
And desire for
Come together to make a scent that drives me wild
Let me be, in this room of magical motes
Placing my nose in rarely cracked spines
Breathing in the tang of the air that can only mean one thing:
Do you sniff books unashamedly? Have you ever been caught in the act? If there a more magical scent?
[WordPress still isn’t cooperating 100%, and it’s not letting me link to websites indirectly, so here’s the expanded link to my poem “Vanilla” — http://www.letthemgrumble.wordpress.com/writing/vanilla ]