Musings of a Used Book Seller

Surrounded by people

Senses bombarded

Scents wafting in from the bistro

Mingle with the smell of old books

Pages that have been caressed

By numerous hands

Countless fingertips

Made softer by

The oil

The sweat

The tears

Of the people who held them

If books could talk

They would say so much

More than what is printed

On their pages