Sunshine on my Shoulder
Makes me cringe
Take me to the darkness
a place far within
There is a fire I sit by and tend
It glows carmine and grins with delight.
I must sacrifice a little of what I earn
but the fire stays bright
With it, I light the pages of an ever aging library.
Stacked with countless books.
None the same, in story or in looks.
A blue binding
but a pale red and Satin I still lack.
When the fire burns low, and wood no longer will suffice I pick up one of my oldest printings
It burns brightly cover to back.
My counted shelfs then seem dim where the new hole has sunken in.
there no loss, another book tommorw,
Besides I rarely read my classics twice.
Even at that the fire's flame burn lower,
And I know the light won't forever last,
All I want is to be left alone to read My books,
but someday a man will come and knock on My door,
greeting Him I will meet the Sunshine again and I will feel its warmth.
My Fire will die.
In that dark library books will go unseen
whispering bits of knowledge to the ash, where a flame used to be.
But is no more