In the cool of the morning I enter the old,brick library,
and marvel at it's quiet atmosphere.
I stand rooted to the black marble floors,
mute as a stony statue in the musty chamber of old books.
Hoary,ornately carved oak shelves filled with the ancient volumes
of golden lore catch my wandering eyes.
Lovingly and filled with awe I bow before the wonderful,insightful
works of Socrates,Homer,and Plato.
A great desire fills my heart to unlock the precious mysteries
found within their wondrous pages.
Hemingway,Melville and Steinbeck too catch my searching eye.
I am imbued with an excited anticipation over the fantastic volumes
of the poetry of Frost,Dickinson,and Thoreau.
Their melodious musings sooth the beast within my heart and soul,
quenching my powerful thirst for knowledge,beauty,ands enlightenment.
A great sense of melancholy overtakes me as I imbibe on their solemn,
golden pearls of truth as I stand quivering in unabated excitement
in their glorious midst.
My heart is lovingly quickened by the wonderful tales
found upon these dark,dusty,old shelves,and
become drunk with desire to read them all.
At long last these masterpieces of verse,and quaint words of wisdom
take their mighty toll upon my mind.
They haunt my soul,touch my heart with intense glee,and
fill my inquisitive mind with warm effervescent joy.
Donavon Scott Vinson
