Thoreau stands beside Hunter S. Thompson.
Picture books spill onto the floor,
left in mid-sentence by a child.
Lives lived, dreams shattered,
mountains climbed, hearts broken.
All these stories simply wait
for the reader to come
through the door.
Silence is not required
but reverence for the writer
and the arduous task
of telling one’s story
keeps the room hushed.
Beautiful covers entice
the hopeful reader.
Maybe the story that
can save a life
is hidden in these creamy pages.
Perhaps a new perspective
resides in the last line,
on the last page
of a new adventure.
Bookstores are filled with hope.
hope for understanding,
hope for connection,
hope for renewal.
The magic of a bookstore
waits just beyond the glass door.
A Reading Life 
Love the images in your poem.
Favorite phrase: creamy pages.
I also read it aloud and it has a beautiful rhythm too.
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This lovely poem makes me long to spend a day in the magic of a bookstore. The weekend is coming….
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The “story that can save a life.” Amen, for independent bookstores.
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I got lost in your poem, just like I do when I get lost in the book store. This poem is quite lovely
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This is incredible- loved “Picture books spill onto the floor,
left in mid-sentence by a child.” Another delicious detail were “creamy pages.”
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