Space for One More

They're perpetually overflowing,

And yet somehow I know I will always find space

For just one more.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And I see a title that someone I love

Would love the way I do.

And so I send it on its way to a new home

To crowd another shelf.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And I envy each and every one

With its tidy binding,

Neatly knowing where the story starts and ends,

Its perfect container of emotions.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And I pull a random one down

And I flip to a random page

And breathe in the spirit

Of a writer whose labor is now collecting dust

In a precariously arranged stack.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And I tell them I love them.

They have energy all their own.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And a tear comes to my eye

As their words echo through my mind.

Sometimes I look at the crowded shelves

And I know in my heart

That a book's life and spirit

Is present even when it's not being read.

They're perpetually overflowing,

And yet somehow I know I will always find space

For just one more.