(Poem 351 for 2024 – I am writing a poem a day)
Reading books in a space library,
unburdened by insignificant
things like gravity or air,
makes for a floating good time.
No day or night means
reading as long as the story
calls for, the library is open,
and the coffee or tea is flowing.
Of course, no one can hear
the laughter that spills over
from the funny parts because
there’s no sound in space.
And if a particularly poignant
part wrenches unbidden tears
from weary eyes, they are unable
to fall; there’s no crying in space.
@Home Studio – 351st poem of the year
Runner ups for the Space Library photos to accompany my poem:
rebekahjmarshall 