Story Hoarder
My additions to fiction is causing despair.
I’m running out of time.
And my bookshelves,
No longer bare.
Each spine has such a tantalising appeal.
I admire them all.
Each holding a promise of adventure,
So real.
I take one off the ledge.
But I add two to three more.
“That’s it for a while”,
I promise and pledge.
But I kid myself knowing
The promise of a book,
As I walk into that corner bookstore,
Grabbing an armful and filtering down,
In the baywindow nook.
Yes indeed, I come home
With more thrills than a carnival.
I sort out those shelves,
To find room for more promise of adventure
And the courage of Helen Barnacle.
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