04-26-2014, 08:53 AM
Here's a poem I wrote about smelling books, because I like smelling books. They smell so good.
Smelling Books
Standing in the isle of a book store, sheltered between shelves,
I slide a slick covered novel from its nesting place cozy among the others.
Smoothly, it slips into my palms.
I cradle it like a lost treasure in a dragon’s lair.
Slinking out of the prying eyes of passersby, I stroke the shiny cover
feeling the raised type of its title beneath my finger tips.
Slowly, gently, I open the book to its middle and eye the crease
where the pages join in the binding.
Peering in, I hesitate. Not yet, I tell myself.
Savor the flavor.
My thumbs run along the edge of the pages
and flick through them, creating book-scented wind.
That’s it, I tell myself, practically drooling
all over the unsullied pages.
It’s time.
Forcing the book open to that middle once again,
I dive into its dark crevice, inhaling deeply.
The earthy, musty scent washes over my body.
Goose flesh raises the hairs on my arms.
Getting my fix of book scent, my knees tremble,
a light, floating feeling fills my brain as I leave the ground,
leaving everyone else behind me.
Smelling Books
Standing in the isle of a book store, sheltered between shelves,
I slide a slick covered novel from its nesting place cozy among the others.
Smoothly, it slips into my palms.
I cradle it like a lost treasure in a dragon’s lair.
Slinking out of the prying eyes of passersby, I stroke the shiny cover
feeling the raised type of its title beneath my finger tips.
Slowly, gently, I open the book to its middle and eye the crease
where the pages join in the binding.
Peering in, I hesitate. Not yet, I tell myself.
Savor the flavor.
My thumbs run along the edge of the pages
and flick through them, creating book-scented wind.
That’s it, I tell myself, practically drooling
all over the unsullied pages.
It’s time.
Forcing the book open to that middle once again,
I dive into its dark crevice, inhaling deeply.
The earthy, musty scent washes over my body.
Goose flesh raises the hairs on my arms.
Getting my fix of book scent, my knees tremble,
a light, floating feeling fills my brain as I leave the ground,
leaving everyone else behind me.