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Bound

 

we met among the dusty stacks


of books from years gone by


each book was used and oft perused


their pages worn and dry



 

the bindings sound and leather bound


the gilding rubbed away


by many who their pages turned


to see what they would say



 

this was a shop that sold old books


not new but full of lore


wisdom, like wine, improves with age


and I was craving more



 

leisurely, I browsed the shelves


with others searching too


you were nearby - I caught your eye


your smile was warmly viewed



 

you sought your treasures...I sought mine


we browsed the self-same aisle


we happened to be side-by-side


after searching for a while



 

we both espied a book named “Poems”...


by Emily Dickinson


both reached to grasp it...make it ours


we touched - a thrilling one



 

that touch that lingered lingers still


that made us fast as friends


a thought was pressing as we touched


"I hope this never ends...!"



 

we talked of family, faith and fears


of laws and lies and loves


of things that made her freely laugh...


of hell and god above



 

the years adorn you gracefully


enquiring is your mind


you scintillate...you captivate


exceedingly, I find



 

we are two tomes who've seen their day


although we're worn...we're wise


our gilding gone...our hearts beat on


still, fire burns in our eyes



 

no cause for dust to gather here


our hearts both smolder low


as moths are drawn to tungsten light


we're brought together so



 

we leaned in, whispered, lured and laugh
ed

our hopes were high and bright


our lustful places felt that need...


appeased with pure delight...



 

affection blossomed in those stacks


'tween arts and letters shone


where poetry and fiction live


Love in two hearts was sown