Last night I dreamed and it was about you.
You were full of books, some read, some not yet.
The fireplace had two huge chairs on either side with a sheepskin rug between.
A reading lamp, behind each chair cast a pool of soft golden light that blended with the fire's warm glow.
Bliss was in the library.
Heads bent over books well worn, a chuckle here, a phrase read aloud,
not an interruption so much as a sharing.
An aroma of tea and cookies of spice, mingled to make even warmer the room in my dream.
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