Perused, Persued

Perusing titles stacked side by side
on tip toe in the library.
Tongue stumbling on big words, young
mind flexes. Quick, small hand
sneaks out to touch soft
bindings worn with
travels, time.
Pursued
love.


What do you Pursue?

This poem is my attempt at a Nonet. A poem form that starts with 9 syllables in the first line and counts down from there, ending with a final line of single syllable.

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