in a city of skyscrapers
lies a sanctuary
for the introverted
leather binding and worn pages
thumbed out by eager readers
and patient bookworms
the smell of crisp new pages mixed with
beloved classics quietly sitting side by side
wooden tables and a kindergarten mat
spread next to comics and Clifford
haphazardly placed signs
signaling areas
outdated computers and shelves of movies
hidden corners away from librarians' prying eyes
put to questionable use by teen volunteers
whispered words and
clasped hands
library days.

To forget what sand had stirred
in the dark of night.

To empty the dregs left stagnant
of yesterday’s wine.

To see as though through lenses
brand new.

To discard the tethers that had
bound us tight, skin to spine.