Back On The Shelf by Betty Leigh Verbeke
But I’m not sorry.
You just weren’t what I was looking for.
Yes, I know,
I picked you up.
Out of a row of many books,
I chose you.
But the choice was based purely on your title,
Your author’s name,
And your intriguing color.
Yes, I handled you with care.
You felt the support of my palm on your spine,
And the strength of my hand holding you.
I appreciated your cover.
I read your back,
Getting a little preview of what you were all about.
I even read your reviews;
They were great.
While I lightly skimmed your story,
Your edges felt my fingertips.
The smell of my perfume hovered around us.
You felt my warm breath soak through your thin papers,
Beyond the ink printed on the surface.
I read a few lines from page 52,
Then some on page 127,
And part of your last chapter on page 386.
I absorbed your words,
And made an assessment.
I quietly closed you,
And put you in my basket.
I carried you around while I shopped for other books.
I leafed through your companions;
Some of them joined you in my basket.
You saw that I treat all books the same,
With honest care and consideration.
But before I went to the check-out,
I made a second evaluation of my choices.
I picked you up again,
And re-read your back.
Again you felt my hand holding you,
My palm supporting your spine.
Yes, I walked with you,
Pressed between my arm and chest,
A firm grip kept you safe from falling to the floor.
But instead of buying you,
I put you back on the shelf,
In the same place I found you.
Thank you so much for sharing yourself with me,
But you just weren’t what I was looking for.