(Image from here)
I was lost in the bookstore,
The air in; perfumed with vellichor,
Shelves sprinkled with pixie dust,
My mind engulfed with wordy lust,
Joy mending my delicate, broken core.
One more new word- Vellichor. And here is the definition:
n. the strange wistfulness of used bookstores, which are somehow infused with the passage of time—filled with thousands of old books you’ll never have time to read, each of which is itself locked in its own era, bound and dated and papered over like an old room the author abandoned years ago, a hidden annex littered with thoughts left just as they were on the day they were captured.
P.S- Written for Weekly Limerick Challenge: Week 8
P.P.S- Rupali; Yes girl, I stole your idea. After all, steal like an artist ( Me? Artist? Nah!)