The bibliophile season ended
by decree of the master
No more books he said
Seven days
Every seven months
Enough now
Go back to your tablets and computers
Be absent from the smell of old paper and ink
The feel of leather bindings
The sound of turning pages
Be gone with you
Be glad I do not destroy your beloved tomes and compendiums
Your great works of science and literature
Benevolence and practicality prevent me
Into the great vaults they go
Dream of them
Long for them
Let your hearts and minds yearn
Another seven months until your seven precious days
©kcasady2014
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