Jazzy melodies float around my head
The spines are broken and cracked. Pages dogeared from years of love.
Soft saxophones and a piano. ragtime.
Some are thick and the print
As small as the stitches of an expert sewer.
Someone croons and sings of love. His voice so smooth it could be
Melted chocolate.
The books need me. I need them. I bend and pick them up out
Of the old cardboard box with Office Supplies on the side.
Feel the old, fraying covers.
Trumpets blast and drums roll. Leisurely swing tunes.
With the pile in my arms, I walk to the desk.
With a spring in my step...
No comments:
Post a Comment
Thanks so much for reading my piece. I am always looking for inspiring words, suggestions, and feelings you got from reading this. Please leave your thoughts here.