The Book That Waits for Me©📖️✍️ by Felina Silver (Copyright 2025)

If you had a million dollars to give away, who would you give it to?

There’s a book that hums inside my drawer,
it whispers, “Please, just one page more!”
It taps its foot, it drums its spine,
and says, “You’ve left me here since ‘1995!”

It’s filled with poems, some tall, some small,
some barely poems at all —
just tiny sighs with titles grand,
or daydreams written in the sand.

I say, “Be patient, little book,
I’ve much to learn — come, take a look!
There’s fonts and margins, spine and glue,
and publishers who ghost you too.”

I pace and ponder, plan and fret,
then think, perhaps I’m not quite set.
I’ll organize! I’ll edit! Sort! —
But poems laugh at all that sport.

They dance, they scatter, they rearrange,
they say, “We like it when we’re strange!”
They won’t line up in tidy rows,
they bloom where only chaos grows.

Still, someday soon — (I swear! I will!) —
I’ll climb that self-publishing hill.
And when I do, I’ll set them free —
those wild words that waited for me.