I miss being a kid
and strolling through rows of books in a quiet library -
scanning titled spines and waiting for some divine revelation;
a serendipitous instance of the sudden realization that
this is the one, I can feel it!

Slipping it out of its place on the shelf slowly,
as if it were a sacred and fragile thing.
Reading the dust jacket and thinking:
Yes! This is it!

Opening it slowly, (is it weird to say something about savoring its scent?) and reading a few scattered sentences, enthralled, before closing it quickly and clutching it close;
head scanning left to right to make sure the coast is clear.

*No one must know that I've found it.
They all thought I was nuts. They called me crazy,
but I knew it'd all work out if I continued to believe.
I've finally found the most magical book in the whole wide world;
the one that's been written
just.
for.
me.