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Around the windy poplars we sit. Quick!
A book lies in the midst, adventures full
and wonderous. For in these pages ticks
the life line, or heart, of a book's whole soul.
People need not fear, for their love is near
and always present. Pages are turned;
imaginations wildly roam. Dear!
The stories in books can bring magic; learned
From youth to youth as empires rise and fall.
But deep within a new and lovely life
is found. A life that's filled with truths for all -
For books are filled with love and peace and strife.
And now: for all who enter into books
take care - a book's a book and not for looks.
Here's my draft! It is rough. What I found most interesting as I attempted this was how prominent of a role punctuation can play in poetry. I could insert a comma or semicolon and change where the emphasis was placed. How cool! I am most concerned about it being in iambic pentameter; sometimes I wonder if I just force the beat in my head or if it actually exists. I hope you enjoyed my rather different sonnet about books!