The pages flew out of the book
and the words fell on the floor.
And as they fell they shattered.
The letters made words no more.
Shocked and dismayed she stood there
wondering what in the world she should do.
She thought and she thought without an idea.
She thought till she nearly turned blue.
“Perhaps I’ll ask the librarian,” she thought,
and gave her shoulders a shrug.
When she called his answer sounded logical.
So she swept them under her living room rug.
That night she saw all of the letters
swirling above her as she lay in bed.
Oh, how confusing it was as they danced!
Worse some were black and some red!
Next morning she made some coffee,
contemplating her day as she sipped,
The book lay on the counter with pages blank.
She remembered when they became stripped.
She took her cup and sat on the sofa.
Then stared at the rug for awhile.
She finally retrieved the letters
to see what she could compile.
Promptly some rose to the ceiling
and attached themselves to a beam.
She looked up to read what they wrote,
“Wake up! “We’re only your dream.”
© Phyllis Weeks Rogers 6/24/18