The light from the lamp on the waiting book
shines boldly. Blue is the cover of her writing book.
On the table by the window is a sewing nook.
She opens the curtains to Earth’s breathing book.
There’s a shovel in the hands of a mining crook
Who takes coal for the pages of the stealing book.
A low shelf holds music, go and take a look.
There are tissues on top of her reading book.
Come into the garden and return what you took
Says a woman who holds out the wailing book.
She puts compassion in the oven to slowly cook.
Its aroma fills the sheets of a sighing book.
A farmer cuts the smoke with a scything hook.
Prosperity clears the air, claims the lying book.
I know who you are, says the dying book.
Your name is pressed into the leaves of this burning book.