If I Had a Bookstore

If I were to have a bookstore
it would have
multiple levels disconnected from
each other,
circular staircases and odd places to curl up.
I would have a cat to read over shoulders
and tickle people with its whiskers,
a fireplace that was always burning,
and twinkle lights against a navy blue ceiling.
I would encourage browsing
putting Dr. Seuss next to Macbeth
and C.S. Lewis next to Lewis Carroll.
I'd mix Mara McBain, Kathryn Scott and Ann Rice together
because I could. I;d have Alyndoria
tucked inside a tree house guarded
by a faery wearing a gown of orange leaves.
There'd be a sleepy ole basset hound snoring
near the fire as it shared its pillow
with an equally sleepy child.
I would have a wandering violinist playing the classics or
an Irish jig depending upon my mood and
an unending supply of coffee, smarties and, yes,
life savers-- in case someone starts drowning in words.

If I were to have a bookstore
it would never close
in case
someone, somewhere,
absolutely needed something to read.
It would have growing trees and skylights,
fairy doors and a secret tunnel to a reading nook.
There would be chalkboards and colored chalks
so people could scrawl their favorite quotes across the wall
and a three story fish tank with seahorses galloping
across seaweed mountains.
We would have a 'name the cat and dog (maybe even the fish)'
contest with a prize of free books. The only rule being
the name must fit, be unusual and both
the dog and cat must like it too.
(For they would, you see--in my bookstore!

If I had a bookstore
I'd have paths of cobbled stone rather than aisles,
daffodils peeking out of crooked shelves
and a mouse (to amuse the cat).
I'd have a hammock with mounds of turquoise and magenta pillows,
at least one tarnished genii lamp with a polished place for rubbing,
strings of wooden beads and hanging butterflies that would dance
when someone opened the front door.

If I were to have a bookstore
magic would be the rule, conversations expected and
unscheduled naps
ignored. Owls would peer down from Eldertree branches,
and children would try to find the hidden wizard.
Antique trunks would overflow with written treasures,
and ancient bottles
would snatch the sun.
If you listened carefully,
you could hear all the words in the world
spinning and tumbling from mind to mind.

If I were to have a bookstore
it would be halfway down a flower-lined alley with a number like 3 1/2
and a name like Forgotten Lane or Wysteria Way.
No signs needed for everyone would know exactly how to get there
and, if they didn't, they'd get lost until the Tome Patrol rescued them
by hot air balloons with skyhooks.

If I had me a bookstore
Camelot would joust with Neverland,
Scheherazade would whisper to Aesop
and Copernicus would leap Vernian mountains
to treat with Gandolf over croissants and slithy toves.
Boxcar children would peek out from between the shelves and
a grandmotherly clock would strike thirty-seven and three quarters.
Mothers would rock sleepy children in over-sized rocking chairs
while they read of Pernese dragons or Secret Gardens.

If I had a bookstore,
If I had a bookstore,
I'd hope you'd come and meander
while I would be somewhere on the third or possibly the eleventh floor
hiding in plain sight
lost in a book.