The Library Poem by Thomas Bates

Row upon lengthened row,
These hallways of books to get happily lost in-
A hundred thousand pages
Of reading, authors printed on the spines
And the pretty face you occasional find
briefly exposed
in the space between books from the parallel aisle,
Unexpectedly.

Accessible words that form created worlds,
Kept safe and secret
Between
Front and rear covers, held together
By the hands and planning
Of humble workmanship.
I entered in, into the cooler environment from the heat
Of the day, a retreat from the blazing
Southern California sun, and I noticed
A quietness,
A united respect made known by
Eyes peering piercingly,
And some filled with curiosity
From passer-byes such as myself;
In and then through the library domain of enchantment,
Fantasy and knowledge...a place for the soul
To silently vent the heat out and cool.

Historical facts; books about wars and of cats!
a light-shaded carpet swallowed the tracks
And the sound of my footsteps in
An environment of a fresh, new
Mind set.

The library shelters within itself
Protection from an outside world,
And the tiniest vacuum of constant escaping and entering
Of people through the doors doesn't cause the peace to tremble
Or become entangled;
It is just that way
On these wonderful days
Of books, curiosity and looks.
Hopefully you will find what you come looking for,
Or find yourself floored pleasantly, found out
by a literary-
Influenced surprise.