This poem was originally written after I walked outside my old apartment one afternoon and came across a huge pile of books on the sidewalk. For some reason, it made me stop and think. I wrote a short poem about it, and here it is…
The discarded pile of books on my sidewalk is lonely and abandoned.
I can’t understand why someone would leave such a collection
alone, neglected, and vulnerable to the elements.
The covers of back-issue wedding magazines leave an ominous impression.
Someone must have left in a hurry, desirous to forget
the unfortunate circumstances that accompanied this careless act.
The books that remain are of an eclectic variety.
I recognize the covers of Pride & Prejudice and Wuthering Heights
mixed with self-help guides and trashy magazines.
A few sheets of loose-leaf note paper blow around in the breeze.
They are filled with words written in a casual, handwritten scrawl
but I am too polite to examine someone else’s thoughts.
The entire tableau exudes feelings of despondency and weariness.
Where has the owner disappeared to, is the most obvious question,
but it is one that I cannot force myself to ask.
The world would need to collapse in order for me to abandon books.
As I step over the sad pile and continue on my way,
I pray that someone will return to recollect their lingering treasures.