They Call In Whispers

Books lined the shelves
Standing tall for all to see
Their spines straight and proud
But one thing spoke
In whispered chant
Read me.

Pen lay prone upon the desk
Paper lay beside him, feeling flat
They were ready, as ever, for any note
But longing filled their passion
And together they called
Write me.

Chair sat erect behind the desk
Always in the ready
His leather polished, smooth and fine
But he too longed for other things
For weight to fill his girth
Sit here.

Together they conspired to plan
To make the writer come
To place his hands upon the desk
And take up with the pen
To scribble words of soft fine merit
Across the waiting page
Then settle back into the chair.

Read passionately from admired books
Then spill his soul into his own
And follow in the ranks
Of those who've gone before him
Words see themselves in set black ink
A token for all time.

They all call to him, their whispers urgent
He cannot resist
The lure is too great
The need will break him open
And he must fulfill his destiny
And write his own true passion.



37 lines
Written for the "Invalid Item" 
Day 7 - What could be in it?
Write a story or poem from the point of view a non-living object.