In the Company of Shakespeare

Across the street from Notre Dame, París,

a bookstore rests, awaiting you and I,

and letter-lovers everywhere. There we

may find more than Shakespeare books to buy"

 

we'll sculpt some sonnets in the writer's chair,

while smelling molded pages in the air.

From shelf to shelf, there's hardly room to spare;

every nook and cranny is filled in there.

 

Let's run our fingers smoothly down each spine

traverse our nails across the black and white,

create new meanings between each line

and let our beating, bleeding hearts take flight"

 

so when it's truly time to bid goodbye,

we know in soul why authors never die.