Library Recluse

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Ghost voices are whispered, as the pages unfold As I search out a treasure, in a timeless story told A musty, weathered novel, is a measure of pure gold Leaving me breathless, in the somber library's fold I envy the heroine, who is fair, with slender build Overwhelmed here by a stranger, as she is whisked into the air, then over misty moors, as they gallop far away Riding in her lover's arms, at the end of the perfect day A dreamer's wistful story, with a sensual lover's lore Latitude is England, so lovely to the core Chapters read, I must reread, each time with gratitude Brimming tales of renaissance, and elegance ensured I read, I sigh, I dream and vie, new longings of my own Imagination's rampant flood, is running through my blood I own the place, within the page, and ponder through the maze My heart will race, as I keep pace to find the story's end, then find myself within the arms of fiction and a daze ____________________________________________________ 8/7/15 For Isaiah's Contest: In The Library

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