Ballad of the Bibliophile

It is such a heavy, cold, wet, harsh Thursday in the Pacific Northwest that I have decided to post some extremely light verse. In fact, it is arguably weightless verse, and it floats past with a virtual shout-out to anyone entranced by books in general or LibraryThing in particular.

Ballad of the Bibliophile

I wonder where my books will go
When I am gone away.
The image of that scattering
Has troubled me today.

Bibliophilia
Is really a,
Surreally a,
Condition one can’t cure.
Of this we can be sure.

Of course, the books don’t know that they
Belong to me, are held
By me in such sweet high esteem.
Without a doubt, the books will meld

With new collections easily.
Books after all are not
Hired help, don't owe fealty--
an independent lot.

Bibliophilia
Is really a,
Surreally a,
Condition one can’t cure.
Of this we can be sure.

From my stuffed shelves into the world—
Diaspora foretold.
Meanwhile I touch and horde and read
Dear books I have and hold.

Bibliophilia
Is really a,
Surreally a,
Condition one can’t cure.
Of this we can be sure.

Copyright 2008 Hans Ostrom