Librarian

The librarian looked like she knew I was practically a bibliophile.

She primly sits at the wooden desk

Checking inventory on a screen



She dons a blue and white flowered dress

And square glasses that perch

On the end of her hawk’s nose

Over tiny black eyes that glint with inner joy

And knowledge of your need



She has dual streaks of gray in shiny black curls

That cascade down to mid-back

But is hidden under a modest bun



She offers a pleasant smile and cheery voice

Amid tales of adventure and romance



She knows my addiction and is eager to feed it



She points me to where I need to be

With a knowing smirk and knowing eyes

Aware that like her

I become a new creature when I am there

A place where things are not what they seem

And the world is my plaything



She knows my fixation and plays devil’s advocate

I smile back - my eyes are knowing too