Leopold's Bookshop

Today I walked by Leopold’s Bookshop and paused, I stared at the saddest sight before me. The windows board, the lights shut off A handwritten sign—closed written in faded blue letters— Hung from the rust doorknob. This was my home away from home. This was where I spent afternoons browsing the shelves, Visiting old friends and new. On hot summer days I could be found in the cool shop Curled up upstairs in the mysteries with Patterson or MHC Or tucked in the classics with Nick and Gatsby. Now it was all gone: the books, the memories and The kindly old man who rang up all my purchases with pen and paper. How could I move past, put this place behind me. My children were standing on the corner While I was lost in the shelves of my childhood. “Mommy!” They called to me, snapping me out of the past. I hurried to catch up with them and took them by the hand. We crossed the street and entered One of those big name book chains Well, I console myself, at least they’re reading.