it started at a bookstore,
smells of chocolate and old paper.
walking through every aisle,
floor creaks and light whispers.
i sat down with a book
and sensed a quiet fascination.
not by the book gently held,
but by something much more.
individuals from young to old,
looking through books of every genre.
an elder lady finds a lonely aisle,
a child finding treasures of new.
i curled deeper into the old couch,
wondering what this possibly could mean.
one wanders for a few minutes,
then stops frozen, in feet, searching.
wonderful souls, there by chance,
finding joy in various images and scripts.
i shut my book, slowly,
involved in thoughts whirling around.
one bookstore on main street,
dimly lit, nothing glamorous.
brought in one body after another,
each individual different in every way.
contrasts in thoughts, tastes, actions,
all with a story to tell, if you’d let em.
book after book, reach after reach,
each found a part of their story.
they found a part of them,
all it took was the right book, and a simple touch.
so next time you have time,
find a quiet bookstore, that has smells and soft whispers.
take a walk, or enjoy a sit,
empty handed or books stacked.
that lil old bookstore,
will let you discover something.
something you never knew you needed,
but will never forget.