So many dusty memories
Rest on such high shelves
That my stooping brain
Can no longer reach them.
And there are low ones too.
And there are low ones too.
I just can’t seem to bend down
Far enough to grasp them
As easily as I once could.
But some volumes remain
With dog-eared pages
But some volumes remain
With dog-eared pages
Right here in the middle
That I can still reach with ease.
And so I will tell you
And so I will tell you
The same old stories
Over and over again
Until my library closes.
1 comment:
I have favorite books and stories I re-read. There's a sense of comfort in some and others take on different meanings as I go through the stages of life.
Surrounded by books, especially in a library, makes me feel immersed in greatness, as I gaze on the famous authors of yesterday and today.
There are even some not-so-well-known authors who have touched my soul in some divine way.
I am really moved by this poem, Randy. Thanks.
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