I think we are gonna be friends

You remind me of a bookstore on a rainy day.
Rooms full of earthy tones:
reds, greens, and a million shades of brown.
Haunted by the smell of paper both ancient and new
whisping through the air amidst the fragrance of coffee and hot chocolate.
People mill about or sit relaxed in big chairs
all in hushed reverence of the invisible worlds surrounding them,
pockets of possibility just a flick of the fingers away.

I slide a book, delicately, from its home in the shelf,
admiring the cover which fruitlessly tries to convey the universe within.
Then, with a turn, I slither inside,
enraptured by imagination transferred to word:
images, people, places, smells, and magic,
all captured in tiny squiggly lines
scratched on a page.

I could be here forever.