I took a seat between the books,
A place to rest my aching feet.
The light was dim with dust in nooks,
surrounded by words on shelves replete.
These tomes validation could not be found,
for text aplenty but no readers hear.
I watched as words moved across the ground,
they flowed with speed as if in fear.
They flowed around the shelves and doors,
across window pains and through the cracks.
They flowed across the walls and floors,
whole sonnets, novels, plays and acts.
And as they moved with grace but haste,
a subtle murmur I could hear,
“Please help us, please escape this place,
please read us or we’ll disappear”.
©Adam Lucy 2016