Tamara Willems

dream a little dream… of me

I would like to live in a bookstore
but not just any old bookstore you see…
one most comfortable and
with an old wooden front, and large windows
that I could dress 
a welcome sign that (even though it was me)
made you feel so
like drawing in, just
curious to see
shelves from floor to ceiling
and piles set to
on most every available surface
comfy couches and chairs sat deep
just a few scant spots
offering space to set your tea
wooden planked floors that creak
when you walk
and a spiral staircase that wound
there would be dust of course
and cushions to plump,
setting fairies to dance
in a

I would keep an old broom by the door
for errant leaves and the occasional tumbleweed
courtesy of resident dogs and the
very large cat
who would sit on the shelf
way up high

a canary might sing in the back
and always light music
would play

the books would be used
second-hand rescues of sorts
but new ones might probably join
I’m not much for business, ‘spose I’d need someone for that
and the… customer service part too,

think I’d sit in the back or
next room in my chair
maybe answer a question or two

but of course,
there would need to be a garden attached
overgrown, wild and wandering
with a fence and a gate, slightly hidden
entrance not entirely in
a rambling bunch of wild flowers, shady trees and some shrubs
feeders and bird baths,
a pond


also I am quite fond of those small country cemeteries,
think I’d like one of those
at the side
I could tend to the stones
share my wishes and cares
and get counsel for worries and fears

days when you needed to find me
I’d be in the bookshop no doubt,
or out in the garden
talking with toads
watching the clouds or
the birds

or maybe next door
on a nice afternoon
sharing tea
and cakes

with the
dead  ♥

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