Tuesday, July 27, 2021

They Slip Away and Leave Empty Space Behind

Week by week, their numbers dwindle, my beautiful books, unceremoniously hauled off in cardboard carriages. But I can't take them with me now, can I, and we have no heirs who could inherit. Into the hands of strangers they fly, sacrificed to other hobbies, newer needs, supplanted by my electronic reader. And so again the future inexorably washes away the past. 

1 comment:

Jeff Shyluk said...

How are you going to be crushed to death by the falling weight of all your books if you have no books? Well, I guess there's still the water reservoir, but it's not the same... and what if you are upstairs?