Times Past

We glance through the window, 

the tears stream, 

but it is all too much, 

for it seems we dream.

The man stood behind the desk, 

the books in his lap, 

the light in his eyes. 

A young woman came, 

her eyes curious, 

her hair free, 

all to enamored to look away. 

The titles raced the rungs of the shelves, 

dancing their golden edges, 

properly painted by the elves. 

The man stood, 

as a true gentleman should, 

he guided the young woman through the aisles. 

Appearing at each end, 

the stack quivering in her arms, 

built and built until it would be so likely to wilt. 

The man smiled oh so brilliantly at her face appearing out of the stack! 

We couldn't hear him properly, 

but could tell by his soft, steady lips. 

"My dear, it is such a night, 

just the night I have been waiting for. 

Go to your home! Take the lot! 

Give into your dreams and realize what you got! 

And with that the girl stole into the night, 

eagerly, as it appeared, 

to get home.