Between the Pages

I lift the cover like a weight—

dust and glue curl in the air,

sharp and dry,

a promise hiding beneath crisp sheets.

Fingers catch the edge,

a scent like forgotten classrooms,

heat pressing on plaster walls,

and the echo of pages turned

in a quiet afternoon.

It’s the smell of first time,

and last chance,

of paper that will hold

more than words.

This book waits, breathing softly,

a scent to press your face into,

while the world hums just beyond,

and nothing has happened yet.