The Librarian

The Librarian shuffles

πŸŒ‘

His long rough beard

white as snow

His unkempt hair

white speckled grey

His robe once white

now a tired brown

πŸŒ‘

The Librarian watches

πŸŒ‘

Eager prying blue eyes

observe

Keen sharp ears

listen

Old gnarled hands

clasp a jewelled topped staff

πŸŒ‘

The Librarian’s presence is felt

πŸŒ‘

Why the Librarian

no one knows

They say

he is old as time itself

They know

he is a man to be feared

17 Comments

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s