Libraries

I remember being a kid walking past shelves twice as tall as me, Picking out books to read in colourful carpeted areas With boats or characters or cushions. A library is a place of wonder to a child, Endless worlds at your fingertips, Hidden treasures waiting to be discovered.

That sheen is scrubbed off through study, Through sleeker buildings of business grey That exist to hold textbooks and journals and reports, The shackles of expectation and the weight of failure and the claustrophobia of focus. There is no wonder here, No joy except fleeting naps on couches in between assignments.

I haven't been in a library in years. I'm not sure if the appeal still exists, If I can see anything through the shadows of hunched-over semesters. I have changed, As we all do. As the library has. I browse its collection of audiobooks and ebooks online, And the world feels a little bigger than it was a moment ago.