Books line the shelves of the old library where we used to play,
We'd steal ourselves away after school each day.
We'd look up at those gargantuan cases
And see the books looming with pictures of far away places.
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Our house is full of books, Victoria, and I do love libraries, but like yours in your poem, ours was closed down, which gave nowhere for the elderly to go to collect their books unless they made a long bus ride to the next available one. No one cares these days somehow. Very Sad. Nice poem, I loved it. Sincerely Ernestine Northover.
I spent hours and hours 'hiding out' in the library when I was a young girl. I really like this poem. (And love the smell of leather-bound books too!) Nice poem. Sincerely, Mary
A good poem for those who enjoyed spending time (I used to say invest) in libraries. I'll assume the grip of transmission is TV's evil empire? R.