Childhood memories | Safe places

The Library

A poem about the library in the small town I grew up in.

I tread lightly on the marble stairs That lead me to the heavy wooden door The treasure awaits and I’m ready to explore A thousand worlds unravel before my eyes As the mesmerizing smell of books embraces me with love

I’ll spend about thirty minutes in the little room Where the books for my age are next to a bucket and a broom Once I’ve selected the jewels that will go home with me I’ll walk proudly to the encyclopedias that always cheer with glee I’m the only one that talks to them, as if they can listen and forgive me

I look at my watch as an older man reads his newspaper I’m in luck, my favorite seat by the window in the back is free In here there’s absolute silence, that’s a guarantee I sit down and open the book on ancient civilizations I had first read the encyclopedias so I got the foundations

Two hours have passed, now I must leave It’s more than my mind could ever perceive The way home becomes more difficult with every step In just a couple years, one of those days would be my last time there I wish I had known it so I could bid a proper farewell

Personal note: The library was my safe space, a shield from the noise and other things that were happening at home. It closed down for a few years when I was a teenager, and I haven’t been back there since.

It’s been many years since I last visited the town, but when I do I’ll make sure to go to the library again.

I know it’s changed now but I’m hopeful I’ll find a spot where my favorite seat used to be.

Maybe the little room will still be open.