A Postcard From Amy

Amy, the bibliophile, browses through the stacks
Of the local used bookstore, on a hunt for new tracks
She scours every shelf for hidden gems to find
And perks up at titles that grab her curious mind

She believes in the magic that lingers in books
The essence left by readers, the energy that hooks
And so she only buys used, secondhand, pre-loved
To tap into the power of thoughts gone above

Amy discovers a novel by Ross Elliott one day
A writer she’s never heard of but with a lot to say
As she opens the book, a bookmark falls out
A piece of someone else’s journey, she doesn't doubt

For Amy, bookmarks simply don’t hold much sway
If she forgets where she left off, she’ll just reread the play
But something else caught her eye as she turned the page
A name and address from Yugoslavia, definite traces of an earlier age

The book is about two friends fate brings to meet
But for Amy, this discovery feels like the ultimate treat
The energy of the previous owner hits her as a spark
She picks up a pen, and tries to suppress a little hark

Her hand hovers over the paper as if to hesitate
She’s not sure if an old postcard will cause the address to elate
But the energy coursing through her veins has a different plan
She writes a few lines, and drops it off in a nearby mail can

Amy feels a new thrill she's never known before
A connection to a stranger, a feeling she can't ignore
As she looks back at the novel, she can't help but feel
That this is exactly how the magic of books becomes real.