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Let’s start this off on the right foot…
I really, truly love to read –
More than a love, it’s like a need…
To hold a real book in my hands,
If you’ve tried it, you would understand:
To flip the paper pages slow,
For my eyes to zig zag to and fro;
To rest a hardcover on my knee,
To hold a paperback so preciously;
To skim the cover and the back,
To hope this writer’s got writing knack.
And part of it is where you read!
Though anywhere is just my speed:
To read on a bench in Central Park,
During lunch or as it’s getting dark;
Or while the subway twists and turns,
Holding a rail to quell falling concerns;
Or on a corner as I wait
To meet a friend for a lunch date;
Or sometimes – really! – while on line
When cashiers are taking too much time!
Oh – but any reader would have flaws
If they’d no way to track their pause;
To find a bookmark that’s just right,
And doesn’t squeeze the pages tight –
Magnetic? No! I wouldn’t, can’t,
Too flimsy and I’ll start a rant;
Instead I find the receipt’s best –
From the library, if you hadn’t guessed.
Oh yes, that is my second home
And through the stacks I’ll gladly roam;
To scan the books by author’s name,
Finding title fonts that are the same;
To start in fiction, newest first,
Searching forward, then reversed;
Then move along to the not-so-new,
The read-before-but-not-by-you;
Then jump to thrillers, if I dare –
Or just mysteries if I really care;
Sometimes I glance at the non-fic…
But rarely will I make a pick.
And once I’ve searched, perused them all,
I walk to the famous “ON HOLD” wall;
I find my number and my name,
(If there’s nothing there, I leave in shame);
My prized possessions in my hands –
Some journeys to exotic lands
With words I may not understand
Some twists I didn’t know were planned –
I bring them to the librarian.
There’s not one library I like best,
No bookshelf stands above the rest,
No library card is most for me,
No one place where I’ll always read.
But a library’s what I’ll always need.

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