The Library

Tina Twito
Above the pristine tomes,
the window calls
in stripes of blue
and hinted trees--
the slatted blind
a ladder to the sky.

And for ten heartbeats there
I clamber up,
attempt to struggle free
from hidden words,
ideas bound tight
in plastic covers.

The blind snaps shut.
The rungs undone,
I tumble back
into my chair.

And I am back to books
all closed
and kept in perfect rows
for never.

Published by Tina Twito

I'm 39, with a wonderful husband (in Iowa), and a daughter who lives in NC with her hubby (love them both!). I write mostly children's stories and poetry (rhyming poetry, traditional poetry, haiku, but mostl...  View profile

7 Comments

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  • Sheryl Young10/8/2009

    We recently visited an 1800's library. there is nothing like the quiet and sanctity found among old books. Nice images in your poem.

  • Branwen6610/7/2009

    EXQUISITE!!!

  • RCRyder10/6/2009

    very good poem. rec'd

  • J L Carey Jr10/6/2009

    "The window calls". You have a way of bringing everything in the room to life. &)

  • Shaheen Darr10/6/2009

    Very interesting poem, thanks for sharing :)

  • Rebecca Shera10/5/2009

    You have immense talent, Tina!

  • Ebony Haywood10/5/2009

    love this stanza, "And for ten heartbeats there
    I clamber up,
    attempt to struggle free
    from hidden words,
    ideas bound tight
    in plastic covers."

    You have a great way with words.

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