Ode to My Oldest Book

The cover used to be shiny I’m sure

But the decades in use have dulled its shine

The edges are rounded with love and a little carelessness

The pages thin from the thoughtful rub of two fingers

A book much too mature for a child

But a gift is a gift even if it is ready to fall apart

Read every year like clockwork

Not a favorite book but a consistent one

It smells like cigarettes lit ten years ago

And that brown spot Is most likely coffee

Although one can never rule out hot chocolate

It’s ink has started to deteriorate and fade

Those big big words too big for a child

Can no longer be read by the adult

No matter though

This big old book has done its service

Been read more times than most

Been loved more than most

And it will sit on that shelf until it truly rots away

As this little piece of history doesn’t belong in the trash