Continuing in the same vein as my last post about the merits of libraries, I give you a few lines to that effect.
It seems fitting that I pillage these words
to speak of you
from authors more talented, more visible.
That is your core, your lack of possession,
you are the perfect, perpetual pleasure,
never aging or graying in the flickering
twilight of life.
You remain as noble as the elderly gentlemen
in the corner, carefully turning the pages of the
daily with his arthritic thumbs.
You are my democratic sustenance, my voice,
a trove for all, a bounty for even the most laconic
of your disciples.
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