WRITE THE WORLD REVIEW ARCHIVE

Soft sliding susurrations, light lift of page,

A sigh, a huff, a breath, murmurs in the murky quiet,

Rustling, shuffling, low thunder of a rolling ladder,

A blurted sentence, shhh, muffling curtain of silence.

Broken intermittently with creaks of rusted lamp joints, squealing—

Footsteps, echoing down the aisles, ricocheting off the high ceiling arches

Tuff, tuff, tuff, hush! Absorbed by fabric-bound spines, standing proud,

Lined up on infinite shelves, yawning down the literary corridor of the ages—

Clatter of a dropped pen, careless student cramming, crying indistinguishably.

The books bend close, whispering inaudibly little nothings of comfort:

Hush, hush, hush, you’re not alone.