dusty bindings sit atop forgotten shelves
longing for interested fingertips
desperately wishing for fanfare
or even faint memories to stir –
fighting against the swelling tide
I lovingly caress faded pages
offering at least a moment of recapture
lost days of importance and worth
musty scents waft through
and I place the treasure
onto the scratched and marred countertop –
coins bounce and clatter
as someone’s life, pen to page
is sold, used, for less than one dollar
U.S. currency –
a wide and victorious smile
greets the waiting world
as I again escape my sanctuary
with the last vestige of constitutionalism
left free from attack,
at least for today…
tucked gently under my sleeved arm,
a cotton blend for warmth,
rests a good book
for comfort –