Little bookstore

Under the big tree

diagonal rays of setting sun

these days

the store is quiet

only breathing is reciprocated

and twice a day

in the morning and evening

there's the sound of the rolling gate
 

you're quiet still

standing before new book section

listening 

to the philosophical thoughts of undulating hills

sweet words of water

then came a few curious birds

lined up at the door

saying hello

hungry fellas

jumping here and there

to collect and ingest

those tiny bread crumbs

from the palm of your hand.

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