In that library
where stories
never stop.
A hand runs across
the paperbacks.
Dusting the tops.
Seeking a single book.
One that time forgot.
He flicks through
the alphabet system,
but seven days pass
and he is still at A.
For the man
time is endless,
but he decides to give
the computers a quick scan.
Bony fingers typing
as fast as they can.
"Got you"
He says out loud.
The automated
'Whisper please'
machines tut in response.
He rushes down the aisles,
Across the foyer,
into the elevator, up three stories,
across to the secondary elevator,
going down seven more.
"This is the floor" he whispers
under the sign
marked 'Poets and poetry'
He hunts down
the name on his card,
and finds a book.
Pristine,
barely touched.
Scans to the back page.
Contact details. "That's what I need"
Back up the down elevator, down the upside,
to the computer. He types.
"Hi, I'm your biggest fan
The way you portray me on your pages
makes me sway with laughter.
The name is Death by the way
and Apocalyptica is my favourite book ever"
"Erm, I haven't even finished that one yet!"
"You will" Death says, "Time is immaterial to me,
I've seen the final edits and it truly slays"
Thanks for reading
Please take a few moments
to check out my new book "Poetic Outlaw"
available from Amazon
https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0CVQ5F9K8/
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