That stylish face, imperiously displaying an array
Of vibrant, vital words, a near-lone repository
For nutritious thought, in the late crisis turned reliquary
Standing dark and quiet, like the rest of the city, symmetry
In the shutting in of living, until today when I paid company
To my beloved chapel and saw again the calligraphic shrine
How wondrous to see and touch books, tenderly hold
Infinite worlds, details that link to yours and mine
How happy to have that weight bear down, tales ready to be told
And once more to have sense, order and light be sold
To a starved heart, itching for that unique comfort only
Afforded when reading, where one is never lonely
And never cast back. Nothing will replace the spirit
Of a bookshop, where to be there in person you can hear it
Mere paper and ink humming with soul-freeing merit.
@nepion_boreas17
