Old Books: An Addiction
As I stand beside my bookshelf and gaze upon my collection of aged novels
I consider which of these of whose scent to delight in.
As I open one of Charles Dickens' talented works;
a small and mostly unheard of book named 'The Chimes',
I consider those that have read the novel before me.
I think of the lives they have lived as I inhale the fragrant scent of the novel,
I note the difference between this compilation of pages
and that of other classic works,
works by authors such as Agatha Christie and John Bunyan.
As I inhale their gentle lemon-rose perfume,
cocooned in my many bedclothes and blankets,
I begin to read 'The Fellowship of the Ring'.
Embroiling myself in its pages, I continue my journeyings with
those nine courageous companions making their ways down
those treacherous paths to dispose of the one ring.
I simply cannot contain my admiration of Tolkien's superior
dexterity with the English language, it is singularly enthralling.
My bookcase is like the tinder-box of the literary passion within me,
as soon as I take a novel out of it the fire begins, and is rekindled.
And once it has begun there is no stopping it.
As I finish my chapter I take my last sniff and then...
And then something catches my eye and the fire travels across my vision
to my Ukulele.
I start to play, and the music embraces me like an old friend.
Then as my fingers remember where they should be,
I exchange one addiction for another.
I lose myself in its cluches.
I am absorbed in my music as my fingers remember their skill,
I am driven to a new fuel for my passion.
I am engulfed by it, as I fly on the wings of music.
I use it to praise my Lord and saviour.
