that old book
smell the every times of paper
that has yellowed long in a window’s sun
that has down the years held
what could not be put down
by readers now long dead and down
fireside smoke and the suns pour out
as dry as dusted time as
must from the dark corners of long forgot
where a book will almost certainly rot
but here is it within your hands
spilling out of all its angst
narrowing your eyes
wrinkling your nose
stirring the motes upon the golden air
on sunbeams from long ago
their smiles spill out
their dried tears airing sublimate
as the stirring of your thoughts
back and back and back
your eyes fall cushion-ward
a breath sighs aloud
oh
to be interred within a book
to wear a friable yellow shroud
look see
the the letters tumble out
or even a letter dedicated to a love
long past that passionate kiss
time has stopped
this you feel that
time has stopped
close the book upon the shelf
draw the curtains once again
let it all settle back to sleep
for an era is a long long time
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