The Old Book Shop
It’s in an old building,
In a crowded downtown.
Hard to get parking —
So many cars around.
A kindly man working
At a parking lot states,
“You can’t park here; it’s full,
But I’ll show you the way.”
We back up; he gestures,
He twirls his arms.
“If you follow me now,
You will come to no harm.”
“The next lot has spaces,
Plenty of room.”
His accented English
Helps us find our way soon.
You pay for the parking
With an app on your phone.
You wish things were simpler:
You’d rather be home.
You walk to the book store —
In the heat of the day.
With the map on your phone —
Just a few steps this way.
We spot the store’s sign
And soon we are in —
A wealth of hardcovers,
And soft ones, and bins …
Of this book, and that book
For children, for adults.
Some history, some mystery,
Religion, and cults.
Some science, reliance
On signs that will guide
You, to worlds beyond —
To adventure you ride.
On entering, I had asked,
“Will you buy my old book?”
“It’s from 1921;
It’s one hundred and five.”
They said, “It’s not worth much; wait 200 years.
Then you will find that it’s really quite dear.”
And later, I ask, “How old is your store?”
“About a hundred years, minus ten, and minus four.”
Five floors of books,
No time now to explore —
But we hope that they’ll be here
For 86 years more.
clarakatalin 