The Library

Pleasant and delicate

pages I turn, with a flick of my finger

absorbed and transported

my search, quite desultory

I turn and turn, my nose burns

the musty odour feels appealing

Yet I find myself repulsed

Its not the smell, its the work

I shift to another, repulsion fades away

my thoughts lay scattered

Its something in the back of my mind,

Still I catch something at the corner of my eye

Its colourful and amusing,

But the resonating words in the back of my head

‘Don’t judge by the cover’

And my eyes drop to a level,

The lowest shelf, its dusty

The wooden splinters brushing past my fingers

As I skim through the books

Worn out and covered in grey

Through the windows comes the wind of May,

The inviting odour surrounds me

as the owner brings me a cup of coffee

His eyes look in hope, Maybe I found something,

Mine hint defeat, yet his smile is assuring

So I continue my search,

No matter, I feel calm and happy.

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