What would I do 

Without a book?

They smell like home

A sacred nook.

A cover of calm,

Defying the chaos

The storms, the sadness

Their words bring solace.

What would I do

Without a poem?

They feel like throwing

An escaping bomb.

Secret, sticky, spinning

Like discs unfurling and beginning.

A transport to the far beyond

All at-sea, my incalculable songs.