Willow has given us books this week.
What is there to say about books?
Books are treasure trove,
Books are life-blood,
Books are best friends,
always were, always will be.
Immersed in a book there is no loneliness,
time itself flies or stands still, whichever pleases you.
The whole world is yours for the taking.
Adventure, laughter, tears, excitement, sadness,
all the pain and all the joy in the world,
can be found in the pages of a book;
the wisdom of the ages to quench your thirst.
Favourite books, much handled books,
shabby and dog-eared,
their bookmarks old postcards with spidery, faded writing;
books with ancient lettering,
bought from a stall on the river bank
on a sunny Sunday morning;
Found in mouldering second-hand bookshops
smelling of old glue, dust and stale air,
and borne away triumphantly.
Books with broken spines and cracked leather bindings,
yellowing books, books with crinkly, crackling pages,
ready to crumble to dust themselves,
unless handled with the utmost care and devotion.
New books, shiny, garish paperbacks,
promising a quick easy read on the train,
on a park bench, in the garden,
while standing at the stove stirring tonight’s broth.
Piles of them, filling up every available space
on your walls, whether bedroom, bathroom, or hall.
Cookery books, gardening books,
books for every purpose and to every season.
I wouldn’t be me without books.