In the middle
of his fifth decade,
all at sea and lost
in office murk,
he strikes out
for the shores
of his favourite bookshop.
Stroking faces and spines,
scanning the shelves
for the one
that will cut through
the fog,
a Companion to Life,
he has no eyes
for the shy assistant’s
sideways glances.
If he knew how to read
and what
they would speak
volumes.
whypoetry 
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