Old and Dusty

I am that old and dusty book which sits forgotten on the shelf.

A spine so soft and deeply cracked, the frail remains of sounder self.

The musty smell of better days, discolouration; far from new.

Not much to look at, harshly judged - if covers all you choose to view.

But look beyond that jacket worn, ignore the tired signs of age.

And words of wisdom might be found, in memory or on a page.

So next you pass that dusty book, or man, don't let them idly sit.

Try opening a dialogue, and seek to learn a little bit.