I.
a wide open space.
empty.
except for a lone chair.

II.
a large variety of colors.
some yellow.
some blue.
all closed.

III.
the curtains
have been closed
for a while now.
it has solemnly
seen light.

IV.
it has stories
that have never
bothered to be
discovered.

V.
it is not
the stories'
fault.

VI.
the chair
has given up
on the thought
of being accepted.

VII.
the spines of
the books
are wearing away.
not as much from
being old as to
being ignored.

VIII.
there is no electricity.
the lights burned out
a while ago,
and no one bothered
to replace them.

IX.
the floor is shadowless.
it is opening,
but enclosing.

X.
the stories are
lathered
in dust.

XI.
even though
they've been
disregarded,
the paper cuts
just as bad
when it slices
your hand.

XII.
you can hear
the sound of
retreating
footsteps,
too afraid of
what lies inside
the binding.

XIII.
I am left alone.
encased
in the wood
of the bookshelves.

Deep in the valley, a beauty hides:
Serene, peerless, incomparably sweet.
In the still shade of the bamboo thicket
It seems to sigh softly for a lover.