The Book Lady
She travels with grace
through the caverns of books,
searching for the neglected,
the forgotten, the abandoned,
then slowly, sadly,
she pulls them off the shelves
and places them in the box of fate
destined now either for adoption
or a re-incarnation in some lesser form–
perhaps as paper bags or toilet paper–
what once had been thoughts and poems
and even magical words….
The Lonely Book
I took a book out of the library,
Where it had stood amongst
Its brethren for 25 years, unused,
unborrowed—I know this because
Its pages were crisp, never bent
By a greedy reader, and were yellow
From time’s effect, a drug that
Ages books as it does readers….
Someday I guess all books, both
The virgins and the overly used,
Even abused, will be no more: all
Replaced by sterile zeros & ones,
And my future self will never again
Have the soft pleasure of turning
Crisp pages and feeling tangible
The words of a stranger’s mind.