My Library (a lament) By David Thompson
I would perchance to make you see,
What my library means to me,
A refuge of tranquillity,
For the literary devotee.
An antidote to stress and strain,
Or simply shelter from the rain,
A jewel of the civic purse,
Repository of lit and verse.
Knowledge for the questing mind,
To browse amongst the shelves and find,
A book or two to take back home,
From novelette to weighty tome,
Oh for the musty smells,
Quiet nooks and dusty shelves,
Bespectacled assistants who
To return or to renew.
But Gideon, Gideon, by decree,
Would to deny the books to me,
Must austerity have its day?
Are funding cuts the only way?
And so I hear around the town,
They`re closing all the branches down,
A travesty of high degree,
To take away “my library”.
David explains his inspiration for writing this exceptional poem:
“Having spent many hours in libraries, browsing and borrowing, despite, e-books, kindles and the internet, to me there is still nothing like holding a book. Nevertheless, libraries are under threat from funding cuts, hence my poem.
“Explanatory Note – ‘Gideon’ is his christened Christian name, before he changed it to George – Osborne.”
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