In a room of its own
The bookcase stood.
Worn down
By the weight of years
The shelves bowed
Filled with countless volumes.
Thick with age
Dust draped the shelving
As a favored nightgown.

Each volume
A collection of thoughts
Encyclopedia of memories
Journals of ideas.
Once so organized and specific
Now haphazard
Cluttered
Jumbled together.

I marveled at the
Immensity of it all
The sheer vastness.
Are these truly mine
Accumulated over the years?
I was at once awed
And heart sick.
The disrepair and neglect
Piercing my soul.

I peered closer
Wanting to touch them
Fearful of what that might cause.
The spines were splotchy
With mold and
Water stains
The pages distorted
By dampness.

I covered my face in shame
Weeping tears of dust.
So much forgotten
Shelved in haste
Filed into obscurity
The history of my life
The summation of my existence
Rotting to nothing.

Atop the highest shelf
The largest tome rested
The barest trace of dust
Settling upon its cover.
The bindings a spruce green,
Its vibrancy not yet faded.
The musty air of disuse
Not yet infusing the pages within.

My fingers rested lightly
Upon the spine
Tracing the etchwork
Marveling at the
Intricate design
The superior craftsmanship
The beauty
Promised within its pages.

The tome slid free easily
Eager to share it's contents
Reveal the special moments
That filled each page.
Desperate to keep alive
The contents within
Desperate not to join
Its bookcase brethren.

I open the book
Fingers trembling
From eager trepidation
The vellum pages
Heavy with memories
Yellowed from age
Brittle to the touch
Much like my own skin.

Cinnamon and vanilla
The scent of joy
Precious memories
Treasured moments
Famille love
Peace and happiness
Suffused the air
A fog of hope
And expectations.

Cradled in my arms
The tome sang.
My eyes danced over
Every moment
Each memory
My heart drinking
The sweet nectar
Storing the pure love.

I immersed myself
Within the pages
Experiencing each second
For the first time again.
I marveled at every smile
Every laugh amplified
Every tear enlarged
Each embrace extended.

Pulling me under the waves
The riptide of emotions
Tugging at my soul
The joy of Life poured into me
Drowning me.
Flailing, I struggled
To go deeper
Desperate to never emerge
From this sea.

Too soon I stood
Before the bookcase again
The tome closed
Held tight to my chest.
I felt at once drained
Yet fulfilled.
With reluctance
The tome was shelved
Sliding back into its space.

In a room of its own
The bookcase stood.
A room created by me
And slowly forgotten
Hidden by the curtains of time
Only to be revealed
At my own twilight
A beacon of the past
Of what's yet to come.