Old stories, in time
Old stories, in time
I went searching for a dear old friend,
a favorite book I had read long ago
I could remember exactly what it looked like,
the color and text on the spine, the marks of wear, dog ears,
where it sits on the shelf among its neighbors
But now I realize, that was another shelf,
in another house, in another time
A house I once knew as well as I know myself,
filled with life and laughter
I live in another house now,
and much time has passed.
But all that was, still is,
and in some way, somehow,
that dear book of mine
on its shelf of long ago
and all of the familiar stories it contains
is still sitting there, just as it was
waiting to be picked up and read.
I went searching for a dear old friend,
a favorite book I had read long ago
I could remember exactly what it looked like,
the color and text on the spine, the marks of wear, dog ears,
where it sits on the shelf among its neighbors
But now I realize, that was another shelf,
in another house, in another time
A house I once knew as well as I know myself,
filled with life and laughter
I live in another house now,
and much time has passed.
But all that was, still is,
and in some way, somehow,
that dear book of mine
on its shelf of long ago
and all of the familiar stories it contains
is still sitting there, just as it was
waiting to be picked up and read.