The book rested on printed hypnotic circles

Bookmarked by a dark blue starry weave

draped in a grey polka dotted satin

It woke to a morning reading

I lifted the open book

Tracing the fine prints

I moved the bookmark away

Dived deep, tasting the gentle words

The book spoke in gentle breaths

Of calm and roars

Like a seashore, awash, lashed

To be drenched and splashed again

Often and again the book would encase me

Surround me by its wide-open pages

And hold me draw me deeper

And drown me in its mystic wonders