There is a book and pages that rustle,
A vagabond muse, bewildered
Hiding in the faces of ones that I loved
That sang, that danced, that bled.
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'There is a book, and pages that rustle My words, my dreams and things I don't know.' Liked these lines ma'am but I couldn't get the complete picture. Can you please help?
'I have the literary blues today' - - I can identify with that Rani - - profound thoughts in this piece - - 10 from Fay.
A very thoughtful piece Rani a little sad but good 10 Daniel
Your words do literally portray the times of doubt the times of drought when words wont flow although you its only temporary you still feel blue