BookstoreHeaven smells like someone else's allergies.Bookstore by BrownHairGirl
Ages and pages and dust, packed high to the ceiling
History in a thousand books I'll take the time to read only after I'm done living
A place where I could go a million years and happily never see the sun.
The spines of the old books crack and groan under my fingers as I pry them apart
Pulling their covers open like they were clams
And I am looking for the pearls inside
The stories glittering brighter in black ink and yellow pages than some mere stone ever could.
Ladders reach from floor to ceiling
Stepstools litter the ground
Packed up haphazard against the shelves
By the last patron to reach upwards for the Science Fiction.
Feeling the weight of uncounted words settle a comfortable shawl around my shoulders
It covers my frame lightly and loosely
Warming me body and soul from the inside out
The most comfortable home I know.
I breathe deep without coughing
Turning reverent circles beneath the ceiling-floor shelves
Eyes closed but getting diz