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Each day, like clockwork they would meet at their usual place in the poetry section of the neighborhood library. There, no one ever bothers them and the books seem to set the tone for their meeting. Today was no different: Each and every day at half past three The two would meet at the library Between the shelves, among the books There’s no one about, so no one to look Their time was important, they seemed fulfilled Each time that they met, another thrill Anointed with mischief, had need to meet There by the books, they created their heat Among all their favorites, the poets before Who wrote of their loves, the losses, much more They whispered in silence, with never a sound As the two came together and fell on the ground The passion in the books, above them, they knew Helped to inspire them, the things that they do The love that they shared each and every day Was poetry itself, in a most unique way But there, there’s a sound, footsteps one heard They stopped their interaction, silenced all words Still united as one, on the floor tightly wound The person approached, they made not a sound Down the corridor, the person then traveled Their bodies still locked, not wanting to unravel He kissed her so gently, she held tightly that kiss Today must last forever, for tomorrow they’ll miss They both heated with passion, ready to explode The lovers among the books, were ready to go Dared not to scream, for then they’d be heard Each holding the other’s mouth, to not utter a word Excitement they shared, oh, each every day While books sat on shelves, they came there to play Among giants, the authors, who penned love’s verse They came each day, to satisfy their thirst Together they would leave, with smiles galore From their time in the library, the time on the floor Knowing, behind them, they had time for themselves Among the many love poems in the books on the shelves
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