When We Read

by Ivana Rogar

Poems are souls on paper,
Covering pages like snow,
Mile after mile.
Reading them we walk the poet’s paths
And the paths become ours for a while.

We are journeying into unknown,
Reaching deep into the field of grain
To pick grapes of versatility and knowledge
(which after us still remain
For others to come and delight
In their welcome of the heart)
Until we go back, putting the book away
And the paths close down and fall apart.