A Walk Into The Bookstore

I walk into the bookstore
It’s a Saturday night
It won’t be open long,
Perhaps pushing me to get a life
Outside of paper and ink.
I sit down in front of a shelf of poetry.
Popping in and out of books,
Turning through pages,
Words catch my eyes and
Tear my heart.
A tsunami of emotion on every page.
Some things hit too close to home.
Before long, I walk outside
It’s almost dark as
The last arms of the sun
Reach over the horizon.
I’m startled by a small boy
Screaming, “I like your hair!”
From the door of a minivan.
I smile, and remember
I haven’t brushed it in 4 days.

Reviews

[Deep]

I sense ad felt the 'loss of something' in the poem, and it's very thoughtful when you said "Perhaps pushing me to get a life/Outside of paper and ink"-- seeing the bookstore closed. yOu have written it wonderfully. Still thinking who could be that boy? :)
great work!