The School Library
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The library was the room that held the whole world—
every country, every century, every mind—
arranged along the shelves in quiet order,
waiting for the right reader to find.
I went there when the outside was too loud,
when the classroom felt too narrow and too known,
and the library gave me what classrooms couldn't:
the vast, the imagined, the altogether alone.
The librarian who pointed me to books
gave me more than she could have tallied—
she gave me worlds I had not imagined,
and the knowledge that the life of the mind was valid.
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The library was the room that held the whole world—
every country, every century, every mind—
arranged along the shelves in quiet order,
waiting for the right reader to find.
I went there when the outside was too loud,
when the classroom felt too narrow and too known,
and the library gave me what classrooms couldn't:
the vast, the imagined, the altogether alone.
The librarian who pointed me to books
gave me more than she could have tallied—
she gave me worlds I had not imagined,
and the knowledge that the life of the mind was valid.
