Butterfly

I fall asleep, books piled by my pillow Reading’s my transport from the known and near And often, this dictates where my dreams go. Books are my world, they teach me all I know The more so now my days are turning sere Pages like leaves so quickly turn and blow. The soul’s a butterfly, as light as snow In poems and tales it travels here and there, Often it ventures to the long ago White butterfly, your wings now beating slow This book worm yearns, like you, to change to air Till then, my little library must glow Each book a candle, tallow burning low