It had been an easy day

Work was smooth in an unusual way

Rain clouds were moving in, a little bit scary

I walked into the library

The security guard just inside the door looked like a zombie

A little girl in the children’s corner cried for her mommy

I walked to the back where it was really quiet

Among all the mystery and fiction, I was delighted

I took my time skimming the spines

Of all the books on the shelves perched up in a line

They say not to judge a book by its cover

But I get mesmerized by the crinkling casing and colors

Then I wondered

What’s it take to write a book

On the floor I looked

There was a girl sitting cross-legged with her head down

A book was in her lap

I stepped behind her in a gap

I bypassed all those labeled “best sellers”

That girl was in the middle of the aisle

I wondered if I should tell her

The library was going dark as I looked at titles

Searching for something that could bring some revival

–That is, to my bedtime routine

A good story to help me dream

I looked at my watch, grabbed Go Set a Watchman

I approached the counter to check out

I asked the lady, “What time do you close?”
She looked at me and said, “Honey, I don’t know”

Her eyes turned yellow

Then approached the security fellow

Staggering

I didn’t see anyone else leave

The little girl again cried, “Mommy!”

I hustled out with the book under my arm

Got to my car

Chilled, I flopped the book down in the seat

There on the back was a picture of Harper Lee

The girl in the library could have been her apparition

Do books change us if we indulge in them long enough

Or is that superstition

I left the library in a fright

I’ll crack open that book tonight

Will the small child, the security guard, the girl in the aisle, the librarian ever leave

Will the words on the shelves circulate

Are secrets or answers in the library

All I know is that reading is great