Entering the silence,
a stillness of concentration,
quiet shuffling of pages turning,
a scrape of chair leg,
the ‘tut’ or ‘sssh’
of tetchy adults
waiting to be disturbed.

Then the tiptoed walk
in short white socks, Start-Rite sandals,
squeaking rubber soles of embarrassment
sweaty hand on the brass-handled door
to the Children’s Section,
a never-never land of exploration
as exciting an adventure as the North Pole.

Sancrosanct hours of mind and page,
I’d settle in to touch and scent
of red, green and blue bound books,
musty paper of patchwork worlds
and transporting words.
The prize clasped carefully,
anticipation heightened by the thud of the date stamp.

Today’s libraries open to a different quiet:
a bright screen, door to the world,
feasts of libraries, blogs, museums, news,
too much to take in or digest.
A few books hold on to their shelves
but paper becomes obsolete in the cold world
of a tapping keyboard.