See the bookseller in the rain
And the books on the table opened up to the sky
In the first light drizzle of a grey afternoon, in the city
See the bookseller in the rain
And the stall that he keeps in the street
Looking something like a trailer, in a trailer park
In the morning, when he opens up the doors
And out floods the world on the tables
As the books open up with their promise of adventure
And their stories, and their people, and the places you could travel
Through their pictures, and they're opening like flowers
And I tell myself I'm a part of them
As the printed pages fly by
And the people all come alive again
In a simple blink of an eye
Here, a tale of woe, there, a comedy
And a Dickens' novel or two
And a story told by O. Henry
I have barely time to review
'Til the first drop of rain
See the bookseller in the rain
Quickly run to the tables and collect all the books
Bring them in from the spatter of the thunderstorm
Placing cover, onto cover, onto cover, onto cover
And the doors of the stall swinging shut
Mister bookseller in the rain
Let me in
I'm a closed book too.

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