Every now and then, I feel I can only express myself in poorly constructed rhyming couplets—lucky for you, that day is today.
Judge a book by it’s cover,
You’ll thank me I’m sure,
Judge a book by it’s cover,
Try it yourself, to you I implore.
I always have and always will,
Books on the counter, shelf, windowsill,
Covers of techicolour, textures of silk,
Essential; bread, books, butter, milk.
Sensibility is not your friend,
Leap with your heart in lustful lunges,
Cradle all it’s edges first,
Blurbs are exciting like drying sponges.
If a book is any good,
It’s cover should be too,
Good words get wrapped well,
Pinks and greens, gilded in blue.
It won’t always work,
Crap will be a book or three,
But surprises make bad choices better,
Bookshelves recreating Paul Klee.
