the old bookstore

it's a small book
store in a small town,
south
of where we are,
but it's full of books you've never
read, or seen.
the floors go
everywhere, up
down, sideways. the shelves
are stuffed
with the old and new.
magazines
too.
it smells of paper.
real paper.
the ancient dust
of words.
ink. the binding of glue.
I could spend the night
there, just me and you,
with a candle
in one of the big
stuffed chairs
and read until the morning
sky turned from ebony
to blue.