My personal library would be tucked away on the side of the house. It would take some effort to get there with many twists and turns. Up and down staircases past hallways and hidden doors and all of a sudden, you’d be there. Two glass doors with a handle on each one. You grip the handles and swing them towards you. It would be huge and cavernous but also cozy. A transparent ceiling so you can always see the sun, the sky or the stars. There would be shelves lining the walls with many cozy sitting spaces in between. In the middle of the library would be many couches, tables, desks, chairs and beanbags where you could sit down and read. My favorite books would be on a shelf closest to this area, so I could easily grab them then plop down into a seat (seats with butt warmers). The rest would follow a sort of “normal” library set up. Each group of shelves dedicated to a certain genre, in which the books would be organized by alphabetical order. Oh and of course we can’t forget the lights. Unique, hand-blow glass in all different shapes and sizes hanging from the ceiling. The light would be adjustable to create an atmosphere that matches your mood. There would also be a café in the far back baking whatever treat my heart desires. Additionally, in the main sitting area there would be two chests, one filled with blankets and the other board games. Every 2 years, I will search the shelves for any books that haven’t been read for a long time and donate them to a children's center or local library. Last, but not least, the library would have those moving ladders like Beauty and the Beast so I can glide among the shelves.
My ~ Dream ~ Library
More by Geri
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Listening to Wind
It is September, yet
I can still hear the beach.
The sea moves and swells;
it tumbles to the shore,
dusts itself off,
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I think my parents deserve to be happy.
They deserve to laugh and sit on the floor and coo over babies.
They deserve to talk in a language I don’t understand.
They deserve to look at each other with love.
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Providence
Sweat gathers everywhere as
I climb the golden pavement.
The known ways, the known faces
are waves in the sound.
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