(inspired by a poem by Langston Hughes)
I am the aging librarian
They do not notice me when it’s time
To sing of teachers but instead
Ask who needs a library anymore yet
I whisper: Read this
And they look at me strange
Yet someday
One of them (perhaps) will remember
The old lady with the books
who whispered: read this
and will say to herself:
I read this because
I thought
She said
Reading it would make me strange
Instead it made me
Strong --now, I too, whisper: Read
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