literature

The Library

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By HikerAngel

Literature Text

My Word Contest WINNER!!! on writing.com

Echoing footsteps on hardwood floors,

Hard rubber steps stamping into memory

The footprints of my youthful happiness.


Summers spent under azure, cotton clouds,

Careless, hair heated with the sun's radiant rays,

Walking into the library, my second home.


The pungent scent of dusty books,

Ink of ideas ripe for discovery,

The imagination of countless souls to explore.


I moved on to the contented drudgery

That only maturity could bring,

But I missed the freedom of the bookshelves.


Now it was gone, demolished

Under the perfect skies of yore,

The misty detritus of masonry, gritting my eyes.


Tears form as I muse upon

The comfortable orange, warm memory of a place,

Crunching under tread of beeping machinery.


Forever in my memory, also to fail in time,

Just as all the palaces of my past.


My fingers ran over the cloth-like fabric texture

Of a book, one last time.

And then I walked away.

The loss of happy places with the onward march of time...
Published:
© 2019 - 2021 HikerAngel
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