My binder filled with work not done,
I am in class, but elsewhere as well.
Taken away by the written words,
on the pages of books held dear.
Mildew and time waft into my nose,
filling me with the sense of wisdom,
hidden between two covers.
The sight of the yellow pages, eaten away,
is nostalgic and calming to know,
that other little creatures,
are as hungry for their words as I am.

The words allow me to delve into,

a calming null of sound and movement.
Letting me slip into a trance to focus on nothing,
except the comforting words and stories.
The drawl of their voice and their small little ticks,
are the things I will take away with me most of all.
My friends between the pages become all I desire.
Their feelings match my own, their thoughts the same.
The lessons transfer from the well worn paper,
directly into my head, just from the light kiss,
of parchment touching skin.