I look at these books around me

on my bookshelves-

perfectly arranged,

each genre in a different corner of my mind.

I read the names on their spines.

So many I have read

and so many I have yet to read.

So many books

awaiting the touch of my hands

on their pages,

awaiting the crack in their brittle bones

and their soft spines.

So many words await to be read

as they have been written to be-

written for my eyes to indulge in

for my eyes to see.

These words;

written to entertain

and to capture

and expand one’s mind,

they have come to invite me to

another world

another life,

one that I have not chosen and never

would choose yet one that I get to live

and I experience

more than I ever would have imagined possible.

So many books on these shelves

longing to live their purpose;

to propose

that my world may not be the only one.

...................................................

thank you for reading. Leave an upvote if you love books!

a poem: library