“Nearly everything we are taught is false except how to read”
~ Jim Harrison from Songs of Unreason
It’s hot in this stifling city with sidewalks teeming
outside her cloistered door the noise is deafening.
But here in her safe little corner,
where a soft breeze blows in the hall
the silence is profound, the only sound
sighs, and the raspy turning of each page.
She reads of knights and damsels in distress
heroes who forsake their crown for love
the flame and the flower, glorious power
how melancholic loneliness is when you age.
In the books she reads, is the truth, the whole truth
for her books are where she learned about life.
Sometimes, when the wine has flowed too much,
and shadows race and dance in twilight’s dust
her heart aches when she lets herself recall
she was beautiful, loved, once someone’s all
now there’s nothing more than a wistful memory
that comes, then goes with each sighing turn of the page.
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg