As I stepped inside the old book store

the wind slammed the door closed behind me

shutting out the cold driving rain.

The musty odor of aged books,

of things that had been read

and discarded long ago

filled my senses, creating

a lightheaded effect of nostalgia.

This was the place where the great’s poets lived.

A place where the hopeful had written

page after page

pouring their thoughts out

for all to see.

I marveled at the row upon row of hardbound

and paperbacks.

Books upon books some big others small.

Those words, so many words,

all of them holding dreams enough

to fill a dozen life times.

As I stood there a voice as aged as these books spoke

adding to the magic that this place had cast on me.

“Come in, Come in, your welcome to stay as long as you like.”

Time hung like a single drop of rain

reflecting the words on every single page

and I would stay as long as it would take.

By David Painter

From: United States

Instagram: painterphotoghpy