The Comfort Of Books
In the vaulted library the smell of the past,
Takes us away from the noisy world, away from the blast.
The occasional pinfall, the occasional snore,
Does not mean that the past is a bore.
The comfortable book-world, cosy and warm,
Means a world of progress, away from the harm.
Managers should sleep here to put their feet on the ground,
To balance their lofty ideas away from dollar and pound.
Maybe that’s it, the mightiest executive’s ultimate promotion,
Stamp collecting, cataloging and lengthy devotion.
Comments about this poem (The Comfort Of Books by Alan Bruce Thompson )
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