Inscribe My Headstone With These Tomes

Ah , 'Tis The Turning Of The Page

Wafting The Uplifted Scent Of Aged

Vellum , 'Tis The Fine Grain Held

Between The Fingers , 'Tis The Look

Of Volumes Shelved On Old Wood

With Bindings And Covers Of Leather

Stained By Hands Of Untold Numbers

Of Seekers Of Knowledge And Tales

Of Wonderment , Folly And Adventure ,

'Tis The Smell Of Slight Must Or Of Dust

When One Finds A Tome Long Forgotten ,

'Tis This That Stirs The Cauldron Of Sensory

And Unleashes The Magic Of Images Abounding

Before The First Word Be Read ;

The Glimmer Of The Ink Laid Upon The Surface

Is No Less Than Dancing Moonlight , Or Sun

In It's Blaze Of Glory , As I Caress Each Individual

Treasure And Hold Each Close To My Chest

A Bibliophile In Ecstatic Trance ;

As One Accused Of Epeolatry And Bibliosmia ,

This I Can Not Deny , I Was One Whose Early World

Was Book Bosomed Daily And Whipped With A Belt

For Reading By The Light I Could Gather From Under

My Closed Bedroom Door From The Light In The Hall ;

Ah , A Childhood Of Books !

I Built Castles With Them , I Slept With Them , I Dreamed

With Them Under My Pillows ;

Ah , Yes , 'Tis The Memories Of These Days I Carry With Me ,

As I Walk In My Inner Library Of Memory !