"The smell of a book"

 

An old musty room stands before me,

Its walls peeling with faded flowers from another time,

Coffee soaked couches sit one by one.

 

A tired nightstand ranks with pride,

Covered in untouched reads.

Novels, comics, hardbacks, paperbacks….

All begging to be read.

 

A dusty maroon novel catches my eye

Thick and daring,

Standing tall in dignity.

 

There’s something about a physical bind of book...

Its golden edged paper shimmering in delight.

Corners crumble with each delicate page turn,

Something you’ll never feel with the reading device that now hugs your hands.  

 

A stale fragrance attacks my nostrils,

Striking my attention

Leaving me curious with the story inside. 

Reviews

[Jodi Eaton]

Nice feedback, Lila...I agree. That line stands out to me as well..."a tired nightstand ranks with pride"...I get this sense that it is worthy enough to be holding the titles that lay on top of it. I also could see this poem going a step further, perhaps. Where is this place? How did the writer come upon it? Is it a grandmother's bedroom? Is it her own? Has she found herself in a foreign place? There's a sense of removal in it, as if she's a stranger being invited in...and I suppose I find myself wanting to know a little more of that story as well.

[Lila Baumann]

I love the line "a tired nightstand ranks with pride." It's such a creative use of vocabulary- describing a nightstand as tired. I get this picture of novels trying to prove their literary merit. COooolness