Stepping in, she felt the silence;
Scents were blended – musty, and new.
She saw the shelves as beckoning arms,
Inviting all to come and view.
The old library had held its age,
With only sections rearranged.
Though bright new books and covers shone,
The atmosphere remained unchanged.
She looked beyond computer desks,
Tables and chairs, with sleek new looks;
Into the past, her childhood days,
And entrance to this world of books.
Like pages turning back they came,
The nursery rhymes, and fairy tales,
There’s “Old McDonald” on his farm,
Then unicorns and carousels...
From wondrous books of later years
Were stories of the distant past;
Of Indian maidens, prairie girls,
And friendships always made to last
Time brought assignments from her school,
And reading that was not for fun.
Researching facts unknown as yet,
The quest for knowledge had begun.
This search went on from year to year,
Through college, husband, kids, and such,
And this place had influence still,
Returning now, she saw how much.
From here she’d grasped how to discern
The greatest volumes from the rest;
Poetry, romance, some high ideals,
And challenges to seek life’s best.
Hometown library, house of magic,
Producing unseen glorious finds –
Facts and knowledge, fun and pleasure –
And planting them in seeking minds.
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