Her World

She loved them like her own children, christening and playing with them

Her fingers went through every leaf, her eyes running on every line

She’d know facts about them and the fiction that contained in them

It was all she knew and all she dreamt about, her teacher, her friend

Her consort, her friend. They were all that she wanted. 

To lose such a soul, her wildest nightmare, her greatest fear, which

Her heart could not take. 

But to see them burn at a snap of a finger, oh you could not imagine,

What it did to her! For all her cries and fighting arms could save,

Oh what could she do, rather than gaze, deep into the evils of mankind

That brought upon this event to her. 

To them, they were just objects, with no purpose, oh what would you know,

Of the joys and travails, she goes through. 

But for her, oh the words cannot say what it means to her. A world destroyed.

A world beyond this mortal and petty something you call life. 

Oh, what would you know her plight!

For books was her world, and when it was burnt, it is ignorance's might.