Pale Dreams

PALE DREAMS

A book is like a dream,

That you hold in your hands.

It lets you feel the chilly winds

And taste the scorching sands.

Getting lost in the pages,

Is like a really sweet rhyme.

You are so much into it,

You forget about the time.

The joy is being forgotten

In the memories of the mind.

Just as you see those moments

Again and again in rewind.

From magical fairy classics

With the never ending dream.

To the hair raising horror

That makes us scream.

We savour those snapshots,

With such a great pleasure.

Never can be forgotten,

They are such a treasure.