The Library

On Monday, she got the call that they were being shut down.
Her favorite place within her small town.

It was hers that old place she had owned it with love.
Not what she would soon come to stand just above.

The news wasn’t welcome, it couldn’t be true!
It was then that she realized people still had books due.

The thought made her cry and she wanted to scream.
Her books would never come home, would never again gleam.

Back to their dusty but rustic shelf place.
Where she’d thought they’d be forever in the wooden book case.

By the big stained glass window she wished they could be.
The beauty the place had, she would never again see.

She rushed to the place where her dreams had run wild.
Now she sat there and cried, feeling exiled.

Her comfort, her home had been taken away!
And what was left for her now was all ashes and gray.

Pages and pages flew through the air.
And people passed by, like they didn’t much care.

She sat there for hours sulking in sorrow.
She would even come back more than once just tomorrow.

Her lovely books and wooden bookcases now vanquished by the wind.
Up in flames, and the smoke never seemed to have thinned.

She mourned for the books and the authors who wrote.
For the history and the castles she’d read about that had moats.

For the characters she’d read about who died in this fire.
She’d wanted to save them, that need was now dire.

For the quaint children’s section with colors everywhere.
For the small children who used to read there with care.

For the people just like her who had lost this great place.
She sat there a while, a sad smile on her face.

And she’d realized how she had taken for granted.
Such a wonderful place that just yesterday was enchanted.

This place once her beautiful sanctuary.
Now burned half heartedly in mid-January.

Heart snapped in half, she had nowhere to go.
And that fire had left her with nothing but snow.