The wooden smell of pine
draped over the aging bookshelf
and could be sensed
while laying on the faded red carpet
that covered a cold basement floor.
Watching the flowing dust in the air,
illuminated by a single ray of sun
shining through an open window
Within each shelf rests a dense
row of records, their covers ripped
and faded after years of constant use.
Running fingers through the
alphabetically organized LPs,
Beatles, Beethoven, Beck, Blur,
Picking out whatever grabs your attention
Rise to the turntable
on the very top shelf, delicately lifting the needle
before carefully resting it on the vinyl grooves
which contain side A, track 1
and returning to your resting place
on the warm basement carpet.