Book Shop

I push the heavy wooden door
The bell tinkles
It’s cool and gloomy inside
The small windows rationing daylight
The silence reverential
As though a place of worship
People quietly browse the shelves
Glancing at titles
Examining covers
Their quest knowledge
or escapism?

copyright © 2018 Karen Horsley

The independent book shop I visited as a child seemed a magical place, I was an avid reader and opening the door was like opening a treasure chest.  Fond memories.  These days, the independent book shop is something of an archaic relic.