Disclaimer: I don't own Inkheart. Otherwise, I wouldn't be posting my (lame) poems here.
The lovely sounds
So smooth, like honey,
So pure, like nature,
Flowed from his lips –
Like an angel's,
Singing those words from his harp
Of gold binding and letters.
The words he uttered,
Seemed to love one another
Because that was in his voice –
Love.
Love for the beautiful characters,
Love for the imaginative plot,
And love for the listener, me,
As he read on and on,
A smile played on his angel's lips.
And suddenly,
In the dimly lit cozy room,
Under the feathered warm blankets,
Listening, smiling,
At those words –
I plunged into a world of darkness –
Until opening my eyes slowly
To see a beauty of a forest.