The Smell of Books

I walk among my friends
They're the very best kinds of friends
They don't mind if you've been away for a while
And you don't mind if you hear their stories over and
Over again
Because their stories take you places
New places and old places
Old faces and new faces

The smell coming from their pages is equal parts
Paper and dust and history and
Hopes and dreams and joy and terror
It smells of stardust and dank cellars
Fresh apples and stale blood
Sunshine and wind and rain and snow
(Does snow even have a smell?
Yes, it does - a stale smell of old refrigerators)
Green grass stretching for miles and old leather
It smells of afternoons spent avoiding the rain
Snuggled and secured in my bed
Ah, the smell of books!

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