Books seem to whisper like willowy trees, come sway on our branches, dream in our leaves.
Amazing adventures, travels through time, historical fiction, hysterical rhyme, alphabet antics, and books that explore the way things are made and what friends are for. Books are like windows that let the breeze in, to freshen our feelings that lie deep within. A harvest of language, like farmers we reap, the fruits of the writers with books we can keep. Reading together on laps or in beds, their music and magic keep filling our heads.