Library poetry

I am pleased, no thrilled, that subfreshman Katherine Allen gave me permission to post her poem called Library.

Here, everything exists.
Here, time goes awry.
Those alien deserts slumbering,
Chinese marching forever,
Dinosaurs roaming the open land,
they go on forever.
As long as those dusty pages exist,
they go on forever.
Rows and rows of metal shelves, holding
Life and Death
White-hat books and Black-hat books.
Feel the old and comfortable leather?
Smell the smell of ancient books?
Taste the taste of funeral dust?
It's only what is captured here.
Only what is to be here for eternity.
Only what is trapped in the labyrinth of time and paper.
Everything inside is invisible, silent.
But it speaks, oh

it speaks.