Written by my daughter….I love this piece. Read more of her work at Interstellar Poetry
If I was a store,
A bookstore I would be,
Hidden on a corner,
Of an aged and tired street.
Not polished and proper
Where customers flock,
But quaint and comfortable,
Like an afternoon’s walk.
My shelves would be brimming
With stories and tales,
The books worn and used,
Scuffed with loving details.
The room would be filled
With a lovely aroma.
The smell of old pages,
Wings of a paloma.
To some it’s a comfort,
To some a found home,
A space to curl up,
With a book or a tome.
If I was a store,
A bookstore I would be.
Where lost souls are found,
And like birds we are free.
By Stellar