Books

Books

                        Once upon a time, the earliest time

                        fairy tales read to me,

                        spider trails across the page

                        black against the white.

                       Then I sounded out the words,

                        made sense of what was written

                        and my journey began

                        a lifetime of books.

                        Who lives  in this bookshop?

                        hiding among the shelves

                        living inside the pages

                        telling their stories.

                        A bookworm burrowing

                        burying itself, staving off madness

                        disappearing into another life

                        another reality, another truth.

                        wandering through shelves

                        picking up the books,

                        feeling them fall open

                        the pages crisp and satisfying

                        leather bound, with gold letters,

                        bright jackets with enticing pictures,

                        titles which grab attention

                        leading us inside.

                        Fact or fiction, philosophy

                       or poetry, seek it here.

                        Songs of our time, and times past

                       a bridge of words into the future.

Pat Whittaker