On the Shelf

Heavy in my hands that are oh so small,
unaware of what knowledge I hold.
On shelves they start, both yours and mine, each one their own, different stories to be told.

Opened with caution, started with hope,
that the story will be good from word one.
The pages turn easily if the story excites,
the adventure I crave, just now begun.

If well written, the imagination is captured,
if poorly done, no interest remains.
Put back on the shelf, unfinished but with care, the next one chosen, with hopes it entertains.

Halfway through, impossible to shut,
fascinated by what is held inside.
My mind jumps ahead, impatient it seems,
longing to find out what is left on this ride.

Less to be read, but still deeply immersed,
that's how well the story has been penned.
Delaying the inevitable, taking my time,
not ready for the last page to end.

Now that it's over, the cover has been closed, put back on the shelf in its place.
A new story chosen, just like before,
remembering there are others, just in case.