I have bought
so many books
across the span of the years,
and so sold,
and so gifted,
and acquired yet more,
that from time to time
I catch myself
staring at one spine or another,
as you would your lover’s profile
wondering:
Have I seen you before?
Did I know you
when the pine on the rock outside,
bathed in mist and light,
was still young?
Or…
Even before the rock was old—
perhaps that’s when we first met.