Poetry Written Works

The Midnight Bookstore by Juliet Moore

 They walk to her shop on starry nights
 and sometimes through rain or snow.

 People who like the quiet of
 an almost empty space

 with low lighting and long tables
 and dusty particles

 that drift through lamplight
 to settle on worn leather chairs.

 A place that smells like coffee
 and sounds like hushed memory

 where they can painlessly
 phase outside themselves

 to wander and explore
 the battlefields of history

 or coastal highways that
 take them to imaginary lovers

 or tales of mystery and lore
 that can’t possibly be true. 

 But oh that place, that midnight bookstore
 filled with noisy tomes

 clamoring with words and ideas
 and invisibly drawn maps to other worlds

 is so very precious
 and worth getting out of bed for

 even in the dark on a humid night
 even in secondhand pajamas and slippers.

 But especially when insomnia
 can’t be shaken or stirred

 and the brain craves that soothing balm
 of bindings and pages and the weight

 of this amazing thing,
 this lovely portal of discovery.