Maniacally I shuffle my little legs to
Push on, as the pelting droplets
Shake and dance on my bangs
Then surreptitiously roll down my brow
To land with a sting in my eyes.
I traverse the brick laden sidewalk;
Where mortar lines are missing
Moss fills in the wide gaps and
I crave a shaft of light to pursue,
As I round the corner toward the door.
The granite stairs climb sharply,
Although there are only ten between us
Protruding in angles toward clouds,
As if by some force from beneath,
The rise is taller than the run is deep.
The door swings outward wide and
Marble floors greet me in caution.
For the shaking umbrellas that
Reside at the front of this space are
Open wide; superstitions notwithstanding.
I am unwavering; my desire drives
And I head briskly through the lobby.
Turning left I read the sign ‘Fiction’ and
Feel comforted by the smell of
Musty ink and parchment.
This place has changed in years past,
The lonely and dank dutifully replaced by
Light and reflection; gold leaf domes.
A brief respite from the
Realities that exist outside these walls.
I am enveloped by the escape --
French speaking mobsters might fall in love,
Twelve year old girls could be lost at sea --
The options are as endless as imagination,
Within this space, daydreams jumble.
I vacillate between the titles but
Settle on the greatest ache in my soul.
As if illicit, my heart races on the way
To check out this tattered fantasy that is
Soon to become my new reality.