Wandering amongst the maze of shelves,
I hear their whispers of stories yearning to be heard from a multicolored sea,
Of fact, of fiction, of romance, adventure, disaster.
Each title sends delightful vibrations through my being as my fingers run over the spines,
Walking up and down the aisles,
Savoring the way they smell and how each volume feels underneath my wandering fingers,
The way the light dances on their surfaces.
I stand in reverence of this room filled with worlds suspended on delicate paper,
Yearning to let the ink on the pages whisk me away.
Which one to choose first, is my only delay.