Saturday Library Visit, 1977
written by: Alyson Faye
Tripping over my skipping feet,
I race up the winding staircase
to the room, where me
and my dreams meet.
There lined up, all on loan,
are the foxed, the dog-eared,
and the never borrowed tome.
Along the paper rainbow spines,
I make my fingertip search.
Here lies my true heart’s home.
This is my real church.
I touch trace the dust covers,
gently smell the ink’s black print.
I stroke the lonely shoulders
of the ones who are not borrowed.
It is a reunion, every Saturday
to be relished and recorded.
A treasure trove to be looted,
memories made and then hoarded.
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