Thursday, June 5, 2014

The Bookstore

When the old bookstore
on 4th Street burned,
the smoke smelled
like sandalwood and roses,
and I wept

for the high, jumbled, hide and seek shelves
and the off-key brass bell on the door
and the margins full of love notes left
and lost.

9 comments:

Kerry O'Connor said...

I think the sight of a bookstore burning would be my undoing. You capture that helpless sense of loss so effortlessly, MZ.

Susan said...

Very Moving!

Sylvia K said...

Oh, so moving indeed! I feel the same way about bookstores. Superb as always, MZ!!

Kathryn Dyche Dechairo said...

The sense of loss is so palpable in this.

Fireblossom said...

Indulge me, cos I have a habit in my own writing of using "and" too often, and then having to remove most of them on edit. If this were mine--and I realize it isn't, and I'm being a presumptuous asshat--I would put a comma at the end of the first line of the second stanza, drop the "and" at the start of the second line, and put the final line break between "notes" and "left" instead of between "left" and "and". The three straight "ands" at the end bother me.

Nonetheless, I can just see this bookstore and feel the speaker's affection and sadness over it.

grapeling said...

damn, that's sad ~

Grandmother (Mary) said...

It's those who love books and the worlds they open up who understand your sorrow. I do.

georgeplaceblog said...

How the hello do you do this... I love your writing.

manicddaily said...

Very sad, well realixed. That's supposed to have a z. Thanks. K.