The old bell jangles as I come through the door 

A familiar step down to a dark wooden floor

A petrichor from pages hangs in the air

Its musty aroma telling tales of their wear

On shelves, are bindings crafted by hands

Lost & forgotten to times shifting sands 

And others, whose fingers caressed those old pages:

A DNA echo still lingers through ages

In a corner sits Mis...

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They dance in the shadows
Made by the trees
Branches stretched out
With long fingers
Claw like, grabbing
Taking a hold
And ripping at the soul
They dance
On the beaches
As the waves
Wash over them
Dragging them under
Taking their breath away
Saturated, sodden
Soaked to the skin
They dance
On a knife edge
Broken glass under feet
Bloodshot eyes
Roses and chocolate
A torn tapestry
...

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Parking his mobile library
A short time before it was due

He provided Jean with a sneak preview
Often giving her extra lending time
Without ever punishing her with a fine

And afterwards 

as she adjusted her hair 
And he adjusted himself 

They placed fallen books 
back onto the shelf

And when his bus groaned and spluttered off
Jean knew that she wasn't his only stop.

 

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Books Ladder Books Books
Books Ladder Double Window
Books Ladder Books Books
 

If you didn't understand this: you should have read this like you see a picture in front of your mind's eye. This is more a joke than serious poetry.

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from my new poem book WOW! TATTOO MY BUTT read live in ring of bells, midd, june 2013   Library Girl

She worked in the local library part time.

And liked to read Harry Potter books.

She liked a lad who popped in fortnightly.

He was quiet just like her.

Her eyes sought him out whenever he was there.

A shyness inhibited her asking him out.

In time he stopped go...

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