E. Shaver, Bookseller | A Poem

I don't know what happens really,

when I go to a bookstore.

Well, in particular, this bookstore; E. Shaver, Bookseller.

But somehow, I lose all control...

all sense of time and financial responsibility.

Suddenly...I am rich, I have unlimited funds,

and I begin grabbing and sifting through the stacks.

The stacks of which, are so close together, I lose my breath.

They hug me as I walk up and down, trailing my fingertips

among the books that sit there.

I dance in between the stacks,

and wander from aisle to aisle,

from shelf to shelf,

and somehow...

there's just never enough time...

I become immersed, entranced...

with the likes of Austen and Bronte, Fitzgerald and Frost, Virginia joins us too.

My fingertips touch the words on the pages and suddenly,

I am a part of the story,

I am a character in the book.

Passing by every shelf is...

a new discovery,

a new adventure,

a new treasure.

I could reside there and live among the greats.

With hope that I could write anything as exceptional.

Yet here I am, the time has come

where I must leave...the world is calling and I must answer...

Why though? Why must I leave?

When being here makes my heart leap?

The incandescent ambience,

the comforting reminder from this bookstore,

is all I need to mend my heart,

mend my soul,

and invite me to return anytime.

Until we meet again E. Shaver...until we meet again.

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