Immortal Shelves

Immortal Shelves

I remember—many years ago—

The house where Grandma lived. I know

So much about the place because

I was there frequently—it was

So close to where we lived. They had

So many books. It makes me sad

To think of all those books now gone,

Dispersed. A few then sat upon

Two wooden cases, darkly stained.

The cases long ago contained

Some titles  I recall, among

Them readers by McGuffey. Hung

Above them were some pictures I

Cannot remember, though I try.

When my grandparents died—the worst

Of times—among the very first

Of things I wanted were those shelves.

By then, see, Joyce and I ourselves

Had piles of books that had no home,

From tattered paperback to tome.

And years soared by—and decades too.

And soon those cases sagged. Were new

Ones necessary now? I could

Not stand the thought of that. They’d stood,

Endured all that our hope supplied.

And now would they be cast aside?

No. Never. So today dear Joyce

Delivered them—was there a choice?—

Unto a shop where they’ll enjoy

A resurrection. And return

To serve again. Oh, they have earned

It all. I like to think they’ll thrive

Beyond the time that I’m alive.

And grandsons will employ them then,

Perhaps recalling where they’ve been.

Classic photos in the buff—I

Called the series “Nude-Os”—

Earned me lot of major bucks and

Critics’ earnest kudos.

Shakespeare Couplet:  Romeo and Juliet

The Friar hopes a marriage will unite

The families who are now so filled with spite. (2.3)