|The read red book
|by Harriet Oliver
|The primary colour red
is noticeable in erupted valcanoe's spray,
leaving trace elements in books yet unread
tarrying to pack away an ecyclopedia tray.
Both insecure and adventurous is the edge
on the mountain where faithful friends pray,
partitioning reminiscent wedge
stagnating in progression alway.
There parables of dread pause so as not to tread
in the path of a boy wandering ahoy,
at the passover a bowed head passes bread
while joy may be found with idea to toy.
Despite all the sun remains bright
as she the shadows see,
illumiating with red a glow of white
reastricting excesses exceedingly.
What is thought here also once were there
as red and white merged on book's cover's pink now,
having been heir to bare pages I bear by brow of hair
even though having amassed knowledge unseen by thou.
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