In a tiny, old, used bookstore,
In a quaint town in Tennessee,
There's a book that's in a stack,
That I wished belonged to me.

I happened upon that bookstore,
By accident, or it would seem so.
While on a very long road trip,
Searching for a cup of joe.

The boy that worked at the diner,
Where I stopped to get a bite,
Said there would be a coffee shop,
Just up the road on the right.

So I drove just a little bit farther,
Until the street turned into one-way,
And I saw that little coffee shop,
With a sign that said, "Closed Today."

But suddenly I felt a strong desire,
To park my car and get out.
To look closer at a very aged steeple,
And antiques that were scattered about.

And right next door to that coffee house,
Was the bookstore I mentioned before.
And the smell of dust and dry paper,
Engulfed me when I opened the door.

From somewhere in the very back,
A woman's voice said, " I'll be right out."
And I replied, "It's ok,  take your time,"
"I'm just gonna take a look about."

And starting at the very left front wall,
I made my way slowly around.
Moving from "Fiction" to "Philosophy,"
My footsteps, the only sound.

I may have missed a book or two,
Along the very back wall,
For fear that if I moved even one,
The entire shelf would fall.

Just when I decided that I should go,
That it was late, and I must leave,
I saw a book that beckoned me,
That had "Old Poems," on it's sleeve.

It was in a rack at the counter,
Where now sat the woman with a smile.
And because I love "Old" and "Poetry,"
I read through it for a little while.

Most of the pages inside that book,
Were so faded, that I could not see,
But the words on the inside cover,
Made quite an impression on me.

The child-like script was in pencil,
And the little girl went on to say,
That grandma had given the book to her,
In 1890, on the twelfth of May.

She went a little further to remark,
It was a present for the day of her birth,
And then I spied a little orange sticker,
That was to indicate it's worth.

The sticker, it said ten dollars,
But I noticed it was marked down.
The woman behind the counter said,
"That family still lives in this town."

And I knew I had to have that book,
And take it back home with me.
Because of all the memories it held,
And all of it's history.

Suddenly I remembered I had no cash,
No money with which to buy,
And, yes, I could have found a way,
But I really didn't even try.

And ever since that very day,
When I left that book behind,
I find myself checking inside covers,
Just to see what I might find.