I met him in the library

https://www.pinterest.com/ashleytyree/tattoos/

 

I met him in the library,

Among lofty shelves,

Stacked with books,

Inside narrow corridors,

Dimmed beneath pale lights,

I met him in the library,

He sat across from me,

Only a worn-out table,

Covered with pen scuffs,

Separated between us

Soft thud of books closed,

Pens chafing wood,

Pages flipped soft as butterflies

Voices of those who were there 

Before us, swelling in the air,

No green grass or the sparkle

Of blue water, under glorious shine

With puffy clouds drifting by,

Just specks of dust dancing,

In a tired ray of sun

I met him in the library,

Among lofty high shelves, with

Dusty books spilling over,

Worn out faded tables,

And the whiff of what can be