you walk out of the cool autumn rain
into a used bookstore
past the chestnut antique coat rack
bombarded by the hue of warm light, yellows and browns
slowly evaporating into the air from vintage lamps
transient like cigar smoke
the floor beneath your feet creaks
sending vibrations into your spine
reminding you of a melody you thought you had long forgotten
a familiarity so strange to you
a sweet almond-like scent emanates from
the books lined up expertly on sturdy wooden shelves
the shopkeepers wholesome smile extends towards you like an embrace
that makes you feel like you've known her since the beginning
her caring green eyes contemplate your trajectory within the room
from behind her thick black rounded spectacles
that of which are anchored to her body via a long black string
resting on a faded grey woolen cardigan
the books she handles give off an almost magical dust
which innervate your soul with a strange sense of significance
her almost vague smile strikes a chord of panic within you
as you come to realize you've never ever really left the store
to walk into it
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