Novel & Cerita Lemonade Poetry Book

The ones that had survived every version of him and every place he'd lived. Her finger stopped on a dark green spine, the gold lettering almost entirely rubbed away. She tilted it toward her. Walt Whitman. *Leaves of Grass.* The most worn book on the shelf — the cover soft with handling, the corners rounded, the spine held together by old glue and what appeared to be sheer stubbornness. She pulled it out carefully and it fell open in her hands the way books fall open to the pages they've visited most, the paper remembering where it's been taken before.

For some time, Leah wandered around the shelves, looking at the used book books full of multi-colored spines: some pretty shabby, with wrinkled or even torn corners, others practically new. And there were even ones that had never been opened, with a crunchy sound pleasant to the ear, as soon as she tried to leaf through one of these. “Your coffee,” Yuna announced in a playfully formal tone, lowering a tall glass goblet onto a special wooden stand. — I hope you like the latte?

It’s not a particularly good smell—no one would make a cologne out of it—but it eases my chest and makes me feel languid and weightless, like I’m floating in space. I’m hardly paying attention as Justus takes all the books out of the crate to get a hardback at the very bottom. I hadn’t noticed it earlier. It’s an old children’s book. Thumbelina. The fabric cover is threadbare in places, and the gold embossed lettering is tarnished. I remember the story vaguely from the early years at Moon Lake Academy. It’s a human fairy tale.

"That one. That poem. Read it." I read it silently. It was about grief. About holding on to people through scents, songs, and random moments. I felt my chest tighten. "You like sad poems?" I asked. "Only when I don’t know what to say." We bought the book. … Lunch was hotdogs from a street vendor. "Seriously?" I said, staring at the cart. "Don’t knock it till you’ve tried it." He loaded it up with mustard and onions and handed it to me like it was gourmet.

Leah opened it. The page was filled with jagged lines, crossed-out words, fragments of sentences. But it was there. A beginning. Leah read it slowly. It was a poem. About a girl who lived in a house full of silence. About a mango tree that listened better than people. About a voice that was afraid to be loud. Leah looked up. “It’s beautiful,” she said. Tala shrugged. “It’s not finished.” Leah smiled. “Neither are you.” Tala began attending every session.

It wasn't until she noticed the strange book tucked away in the corner that she was able to distract herself from her thoughts. "I almost missed one," she whispered. As she walked over to it, she noticed that its cover was worn, and it seemed to emit a faint glow that caught her attention. Maybe it's how the moon perfectly acted as its own spotlight that made it seem so glowy, but it's not just that. She somehow felt a little hint of amusement as she stared at it. As she approached the book, she saw the shinny title written on it, Lunaria, and she couldn't help but be intrigued. The moonlight shining down on the pages illuminated the words in a way that made them seem to come alive.

NB!! If you want to support me as an author the link is below and it is also on my author page, any amount is appreciated. https://ko-fi.com/honesty577 . Also, all the poetry in the book is written by me and can be found on I*******m at Honesty.577 please support. . ONE MONTH LATER Mesi's POV Our laughter began dying down as I continued to refill my glass of wine. The free-flowing conversation we were currently engaged in leaving me with a sense of calm as I tried to remember a time I found joy in anything otherwise from my work.

The waiter smiled and said, “Both of you must not be from around here? Today is the Poetry League which is held once every three years!” At that, Jewel immediately clapped her hands, smiled at Darryl, and said, “Yes, yes, yes! I remembered! The Artemis Sect holds the Poetry League once every three years. This year’s Poetry League is held at Hibiscus City. We’re so lucky! The Poetry League brings a huge crowd over! Would you please go together with me to have a look?” Darryl smiled bitterly as he rubbed his eyes sleepily. “Ok, let’s have a look.”

ADRIAN The more I flipped through the pages, the more I was unable to control the bulge in my pants. I would've never believed that Lena would write something like this. But am I really surprised? Not at all. She left it after class, I wanted to return it to her, but there was just a way the book looked and curiosity filled me, only to find out that she's been writing erotic poems. I couldn't stop myself and kept flipping through the pages, but I froze in my set upon coming across a poem with my name on it. The poem contained not only her fantasies but what she really thought of me.