My Love of Libraries

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How can I convey the wonder
When I, a small child, hand in hand with Dad
Would creep into the local library and wander?

Saturday morning on library day,
Dad would bring along his list of books
He hoped to borrow.
Whilst I, released to search
Amongst the children’s section
In that gloomy place beneath the church,
Would take my time to make my best selection.

Towering shelves, stacked high with books I couldn’t reach;
The children’s books were way down low.
Warned to whisper and be careful with my speech,
Hushed with a warning glance and furrowed brow.

But that was long ago,
Seventy years and more.
Yet still the library is where I love to go,
Stepping through that special door,
Where librarians no longer quieten.
Rhyme and story time, as well as books,
Computer lessons to enlighten.
Laughter, learning, and no more frowning looks.