Ode to a Bookcase
Five shelves
of white wood
full of stories
and among
pages of books
The books overflowing
some stacked
nearby in piles
on carpet
Hundreds of stories
read through the years
some loved
some still awaiting discovery
others long passed
and forgotten
The smell of paper
hidden at first
but there
waiting for the next reader
to open pages
and free the scent
One could never remember
all it contains
the bookshelf does
years of stories
in one place
Along with the books
rest trinkets
memories left by
events of the past
A locket
a journal
some ink and a stamp
the bright wrapper of a candy bar
Some thing resting for years
like a hat from day camp
third grade to sophomore
and lying there still
some only hours
the headband of a friend
nearly forgotten
but found before departing
But all have in common
they're next to the stories
and if one listens closely
telling their own
A bookshelf is a jumble
for the most part
occupied by books
some in neat rows
some placed to clear space elsewhere
but also
containing the items
humanity gathers
in day to day life
and needs a place to put down
A bookshelf has many stories
waiting to be told
and
if looked at
carefully
tells a story itself
👁 3💬 0
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (0)
No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.
Log in to leave a comment.