The Bookcase by Elizabeth Henry

 Beside a sunny window,

In the corner of the room,

There sits a shoddy bookcase

Stuffed humour, love and gloom.

 

It holds a dozen hardbacks,

As decrepit as can be,

Their spines all torn and crinkled

And their titles hard to see.

 

They range from vintage classics

To a line of gory crime,

An ancient family’s saga’s there,

Awaiting precious time.

 

A Beano and a Dandy

And a Tiger from your youth

A tour of middle England,

Plus a diary filled with truth.

 

A pinch of Charlotte Bronte

And some Wilkie Collins too.

A timeless opus that will tell

The tale of Owl and Pooh.

 

A guide to fancy gardens

And a recipe for bread,

A saucy slice of narrative

To carry up to bed.

 

And when you think you’re past it

And your body’s not so pert,

You’ll always have a paperback

To keep your mind alert.