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by Rhyssa Author IconMail Icon
Rated: 13+ · Poetry · Contest Entry · #2072631
for the smell of leather and dust
no cobwebs here.
the store is cheery yellow
and smells of lavender and age.
a hush surrounds the contents
as if I walk a cathedral—
or a cemetery.

I explore the past,
a cherry shelf,
a butter dish,
a love seat in wood with a dark patina
that deepens in the hollows
where lovers once sat.
I touch the ring on my finger,
and imagine us seated,
his arm about my waist,
my head on his shoulder,
but I fear the delicate shape
will fail under the weight of the present.

deeper in the shop,
I find Aurora’s doom—
a spinning wheel,
the pedals worn
and the tension screw loose with neglect.
I wonder what would happen
if I touched the sharpened spindle.

near is a niddy noddy—
a spindled stick,
just long enough
to grasp tight in my hand,
with opposing crossbars
at either end,
used to wind skeins.
I wonder what yarns
this one has seen
as I run my fingers down
the cables on my scarf—
a rainbow of greens and blues.

at the back of the store, the books.
I run my finger down the worn spines
of a treasure trove
with no outward inkling
of what lies inside. I open them,
one by one and find a fairy story.
my ambrosia
the liquor of the gods.
I breath in, drunk
on the smell of leather and dust,
and prepare to read.

line count: 48

Prompt for: Jan 21, 2016
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