Alone In The Bodleian Poem by Jonzo Bandwagoner

Scotch tape sticks to my hands,
The sound of soft books in the air
Like a summer song. Creatures
Cry in the distance, yet this sagacious
Lull, I trade for no land; the
Realization falls:
I am surrounded by the great
Shapers of time. They sit silent,
As though beckoning, pleading patiently,
For me to unmask the connotation
And actually exist in the story,
To creep from the leaves of pages
Into a forest filled of characters, heroes
Who lived lives like ourselves.
Time passes like a trick, that all familiar
Ticking in my chest again resurfaces
For the last pages are steadily approaching.
I devour their content, like
A madman I have no rest.
Then! Finality.
I close the soft sound book, for now
The still beauty lingers in victory.

Car door, engine putters, it sighs and
Drives off with myself inside.