I have always been an avid reader and today something had me thinking of when I was younger and my mother’s soup. The produce of those thoughts: The Book.
Wrapped around with a woolen shawl
She would always bring a bowl of soup
Mushroom, to warm me up in winter
As I burnt the midnight oils
Deciphering transcripts of yester year
Visualising the aroma of antiquity
An anthology of luminescence
The unveiling of knowledge.
A reader lives a thousand lives before he dies…