Always bought books the way people bought shoes
Bad days and good days and whatever the mood
But I moved to the city, and, not sitting pretty,
Now the book money’s got to buy food.
What to do, what to do, with my book-buying mood
I was craving the search and the find more than food
I needed a fix, needed a tale, but even when books went on sale
The damage I knew I’d do in the store wasn’t good.
I missed wandering aisles and skimming the spines
Admiring all the covers and titles and lines
And losing myself in the New Fiction shelf
Buying and having and making books mine.
My shelves were so sparse, and I, feeling dismayed,
Was desperate for stories but couldn’t have paid
So I went for a stroll, to soothe my sad soul
And it was on that long walk I was saved.
I passed by a building so tall and so wide
You’ve could have fit cities, worlds even, inside
It was made of cold stone, yet warm like a home
And when I stepped through the doors, I was sure I had died.
There were aisles and stacks and corners and nooks,
And rooms upon rooms upon rooms of books
All of them there and all of them free,
No tricks and no catches and no dirty looks
When you pick something up, when you turn through the pages
When you sit and read, when you stay for ages.
And the best part is, now I don’t have to choose,
I can live in the city, I can have books AND have food.