In The Library

T’alcydon moves like a shadow
through the trees with leaves of onyx

Dark words written on dark paper
paper the color of a bruised heart
words the color of poetry

He find his favorite tome
lifts the leather bound volume
hefts it as though weighing a baby

It feels heavier, somehow. . .

He incants the cover and the latches release
with a soggy snap sound

Smoky velvet
touch the curling ageded leaves
New poetry in an old book

His chest rumbles with the chant of lost goodbyes
Promises forgotten under unturned rocks
wriggle for the surface
Poetry pours out a full measure of his heart

He finishes with the phrase;
“Hon, you can refuse the moment
but you can not deny the scent.”

He closes the book

Published by

Chyfrin the Celtic poet

Artist, Poet, Electrical/Biomedical Engineer, Actor, Playwright, Set construction, Educator, Lover of womankind and single malt scotch

7 thoughts on “In The Library”

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