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When You Open A Book

Made of paper they are,
Yet in their pages they hold
Worlds near and far
Adventures by the thousandfold
And people that cannot be found elsewhere
But you meet them again and again
As you begin once more to see how you fare
Running across a hill or swimming in a fen
Or dancing in a vast field of grass
As you enter once again
This world that holds a mass
Of wonderful creatures, from a stag to a boar
All in this beautiful world, both old and new
Every time you open a book, you enter into the blue

This poem makes me...
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