Abegail In the Library
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It was the late 18th century and Abegail was twenty-one years old,
She was about to be married soon to an older man of thirty-four;
Her family was considered middle-class yet they owned a lovely home,
A gothic residence and nestled within was an large dusty library.
Abegail had a deep love for books and she found a secret way,
A passage was hidden by bookshelves to a labyrinth of books;
Women were discouraged from reading, it would damage their mind,
She should concern herself with needlework, marriage and music.
The library was full of books of all descriptions, some just old,
Some were rare and some just interesting with fiction stories;
The books took her to far off places and to tales so romantically sad,
Abegail loved the aged and yellowed volumes with tattered pages.
Sometimes she would just walk around touching the volumes,
It was an impressive collection with books in wooden shelves;
A place of acquirable knowledge, of deep discussions with her mind,
She loved to snuggle up with some books and just fill her brain.
Oh the library was utterly gorgeous to Abegail with its collections,
And not just with books but musical manuscripts and photographs;
She found old diaries of her ancestors and was full of book enlightenment.
But, tomorrow was her wedding day and motherhood and wife her fate.
______________________________
August 1, 2015
Poetry/Narrative/Abegail In The Library
Copyright Protected, ID 15-696-539-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Inspired by the painting by Auguste Toumauche
Dans la Bibliotheque or In the Library
For the contest, In The Library, sponsor,
sponsor, Isaiah Zerbst
Second Place
Copyright © Constance La France | Year Posted 2015
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