At the Bookstore

"Pardon me," I start to ask.

I approach them kindly with no mask.

"I see you two just sitting near, so while I'm sitting here

If I may I'd like to ask

A question that's short, it won't last."

They looked at me and smiled

Their teeth did start to glint

As I gave my question, They thought of small, kind, hints.

"What gives you comfort? What makes you feel safe and secure?

What give your comfort? When you feel down, tell me, what's your cure?"

"A basic answer would be my cat," said the girl in red. Though her dress seemed to mirror the hair upon her head.

I asked the girl in grey, she was stumped so to say.

"I don't know, I guess I don't have anything that gives me comfort?" I scratched my head in dismay.

"Reading," says the redhead girl, "a book that I've read a lot." She smiled a while while deep in thought, about a comfort plot.

"Something that I read when I was young and small. Something that I still read, even though I'm tall. Something that I read that left an impact." Yes, something that she read, to read again from front to back.

"Something that you read when you were young and made an impact on your life? Something that you read, to help you through some strife?"

She smiled, her laugh did chime. I must be honest, she did not rhyme. Though I did, cause late grows the time. They gave me their two-cents, since these young ladies were truly dimes.

"Now you girl in gray, what do you say?"

She smiled at my knack. "I don't know," not too verbose, this was her answer back.

"Something familiar," said the girl is grey, this is what she had to say. She helped out with my curiosity, her answer would fill an entrée.

The girl is red said 'alone, but not isolated.' "Not too much people. Not like a crowd; cause loneliness, I hate it."

"So to be alone, but not a crone?" Is what I asked away. She smiled and nodded, to me she silently applauded, convo does make my day.

The girl in gray has black hair, and skin that's brown like mine. She gave an answer that was fine, and high class just like wine.

She gave an answer that was straighter than an arrow. Like a simple path to walk the straight and narrow.

"I like math. Like, I like doing something that I'm good at."

"It's reassuring," said the girl in red. Math for them was downer curing.

"If something goes wrong at least there's something that I can do right," the girl in gray began to say, and answer with delight. "It's always there." She took her care, her answer gave me light.

"It depends on the teacher" the redhead spoke, her skin as white as cream. For we've all had a teacher that would dare to make us scream.

"I've always been good at school since I like learning and doing new things," said the black haired girl, "I love having knowledge, I love being the smartest person. I love knowing random things."

"Well, I guess, when it comes to math, numbers don't lie." She gave an endless smile that went beyond pi.

"Yeah, with English, there's not like an objective answer. With math, there's always a definitive answer." It's the art in math that drew her in, like the beauty in a dancer.

"Objective reality in comparison to subjective reality?" I'm running out of words to rhyme for the time I had with the interviewee.

She nods her head 'Yes.' Then looks back at her book and laptop, thinking of a guess.

"Do you wanna go to Starbucks?" The happy redhead said.

The other turned to her, she nodded, shook her head.

They packed their bags full, with smiles on their faces. They packed their bags full, and talked about studying in other places.

As they turned to leave, they started to go and walk. They turned around one last time, I thanked them for the talk.

"I like talking to people," the redhead said "they always interest me."

"So conversation to you is also comforting?"

Their eyes did smile, cups in their hands. They left and I stayed for awhile, we had different plans.

I packed my bag with book in hand, and walked back to the shelf. I moved my way to put it back, I walked there by myself. Upon the rows, I sought and saw, there my eyes did scan. In proper order, I found the spot, I put back Chainsaw Man."

Now there were people, still, here working, near the end of shift. I went in search of one more person, an opportunity I could not miss.

I saw two people there nearby, I saw them at a desk. I have on life, one chance to live, I know that I am blessed.

I walked right up and asked the lady, "Hi there how are you?"

She answered "Fine." I asked, "Do you mind," you knew what I had to do.

"I'm writing a poem for a contest, about comfort and where its found. Yet, I will confess, I do not best, where do you find it bound?"

"Well I'm tired, not so wired. So I have to say my bed." Her hair, her curls, fell past her head, yes this is what she said.

"Just being honest, it's a pie in the sky reaction." I whipped out my phone and texted myself this, I put this memory into action.

"Where else?" I asked, she answered fast, but it seemed to vast. I asked for more, I did implore, her answer did amass.

No push, no shove, and like a dove, she spoke to say, "Love."

"Love, what kind? One specific in mind? How are the lives intertwined?" Her answer was fine, and so sublime, to her love for all of time.

"Unconditional love." Her answer was simple and not wild.

"Unconditional love? Like, between a lover, or like a parent to a child?"

"All kinds, I pay no mind. It simply cannot be beat. Someone who accepts me for all my faults, that love makes me feel complete."

Her answer was calm, and just as sweet. Oh, it was purely bliss. Her answer was so simple it followed the rule of K.I.S.S.

These ladies were really nice and kind, sweetly just like pie. I smiled as I left with my hand waving goodbye.

These are what comfort means to others, small parts of their beliefs. Comfort, care, cheer, and rest, yes these ladies gave me their relief.