Books sit quietly gathering dust,
Specks of light wandering, lost
The door’s hinge covered by rust.
Window brings a great wind gust
Souls that wander times long past,
Stories trapped behind thin glass
Crawling through the window there
Wanders in a stray, a hare
Jumping up and down it looks
Looks around at all those books
Dancing with the specks of light
Spinning round, from noon to night
Now that sun has set it’s time
Time for hare to say goodbye,
Time to rest where stories sleep
With the books these shelves safe keeps
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