Thursday, 21 November 2013

THE BOOKSTORE

in dusk shadows

on the busy city street  
in the quickening of night

raindrops, upon the asphalt,  
gave the illusion 
of a crackle glass path

filled with ruby strings  
of blinking brake lights

that accelerating people  
filed past

in a race to end the day. 
 
then suddenly, there, before me, lay . . .
 
THE BOOKSTORE

yawning, with all the splendiferous comfort

of a bedtime story book. 


photos:  The Bookstore (McLeod’s Bookstore on Pender in Vancouver - a Harry Potter-esque trove of beautiful books where you can, literally lose yourself, gleefully, for hours). 

© 2013 Wendy Bourke
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3 comments:

  1. janetld23 November 2013 at 14:56

    Ah, just as wonderful as a bookstore! I feel like curling up in a corner somewhere ...

    ReplyDelete
  2. Wendy Bourke23 November 2013 at 20:03

    Thanks, Janet. The place really does have that effect - and so it was a very simple poem to pen.

    ReplyDelete
  3. Mary27 March 2014 at 14:34

    So much joy to be found in a book shop. I haven't visited a real book shop in a long time. Amazon is just too easy.

    ReplyDelete

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