Book

If I showed you the story
Under my cover,
Would you run?
If I let you read what I have hidden
In the depths of my pages,
Would you cry?
All you see now,
Is topsy-turvy:
Down is up,
Wrong is right.
But there is a pattern in my letters,
A rhythm to my words.
I am used to others glimpsing my backwards cover
And being dropped for something easier on the eyes.
It takes courage and strength
To turn that first page,
But once you have started,
You’ll find that I open like a book.
Try me.
I hold in my leaves
A story you will never forget.