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a short poem about a woman who works in a used bookstore |
| She unlocks the door and enters a new world a world of possibility. The scent of old books gives customary greeting. Here she is in her own. The magic begins as she looks around, so many portals on these old shelves ready to take her anywhere her imagination will allow. She bides her time lost in one book or another as customers come in, browse, buy, and leave the store. Her day, a whirlwind of adventure a haunting of horror, a whimsy of fantasy. Where wild westerns, and saucy romance, and futuristic foretellings envelop her attention. This is her home away from home. About this poem: ▶︎ |