The library
Oak doors give way to dusty halls
With shelves of books lining the walls
In comfy chairs people sit
Reading through the newest hit
The smallest sounds echo through the room
A silence devoid of any gloom
A place of peace, a place of rest
A place to study for the test
Books are portals, book are doors
Through which another world may pour
Tales of woe or tales of joy
They tell their stories never coy
Leather bound and carefully stitched
Or paperbacked with pages hitched
New and crisp pages just set
Or old and worn with stains from sweat
Every book is a treasure, every book is a prize
A gift to all the willing eyes
Sad or happy, lies or true
Every book has a story for you