Oh to drown in the scent of books
And to vividly imagine details in every corner and crook
The musky smell and creaky wooden floor
The cobwebs on bookshelves and the sliding doors
Fingers grazing the hard bookcase
Dust on my fingers from the rims I trace
Echoed footsteps through the room
The letters and dried flowers and the ***** broom
The attic window and ascending stairs
Feather quills on sill and decor pairs
Texts and symbols drafted on vellum pages
As my mind drifted to the little cages
The cages that bore Canary too yellow
That with me gazed at the colors and along grew mellow