Continental Story Books.

She wrote for me,
a book of recipes,
filled page upon page –
with the ingredients I’d need,
and, day after day –
it’s a book that I still read;
it’s detailed poison –
in her own handwriting,
blood-lettered in –
old weathered binding,
soft leather skin,
full of soul, and divinity;
a handbook,
to guide through,
the darkness ahead –
written in a language,
deciphered by dead,
and it’s clear –
why I hold so dear,
the words that I have read;
she drew a picture-book,
and dedicated it me –
filled it with her paintings,
and photos of the beach,
chained it,
with a padlock,
beneath iron lock and key…
and the only person,
in the world,
that the book opens for –
is ME.

5 thoughts on “Continental Story Books.

  1. Dream boat read, Mucho epic and a perfect wordidge count in terms of class

    Liked by 1 person

  2. I needed that smile as much as you needed it. I cherish you. Adventures to be had. Words to draw in sand. Coffee to be drank. And peace to allow in, xxx

    Liked by 1 person

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