The Shelf

The dusty volume boomed shut, sending a plume of age into the stale air. “There” the artist remarked to himself, “that one’s done”.
He picked up the leather bound book and nestled it on the shelf next to many others like it.
He traced his finger along all the the spines of his collection as he read outloud, “Childhood, School, Friends, God,”
his finger came to the newest title on the shelf, "Her.”
he sighed, “On the shelf, finally…”
The Artist slid his stool out from the desk as he took a seat,
reaching up he took hold of another blank volume and picked up his pen,
“Perhaps this one will be happier, we shall see, we shall see indeed.”