I’m staring at the books upon the shelves,
Arranged by height for visual appeal,
Yet ordered by their categories too—
Sir Dewey would be proud of me, I think.
Two cases hold a fraction of the books
I used to own before we moved down here.
“You have to thin them out,” my husband said.
His point made sense, for books left on the shelf
Have little value. Thus to give them worth,
They must be taken down, and opened, read.
Copyright © 2018 Abigail Gronway – All Rights Reserved
Ten lines of verse with 10 syllables per line
Rhythm and rhyme are not required.