The End

Beginnings of books are my favorite parts

The new book smell wafts gently to my nose

Meeting characters and learning their hearts

Enticing and binding me to their prose

The middle is what truly draws me in

New sights and sounds of a world I don’t know

Such beauty unmatched by others that pen

My love increases as words come and go

But then I pass the dreaded middle mark

Wistfully I accept the end is near

I wish the shape was not that of an arc

For it is the next story part I fear

I know I can’t escape the end; yet still

I’m never prepared for the end’s ill will