David was a man who loved books. He had always been an avid reader and loved nothing more than getting lost in a good story. He wanted to share his love of books with others, which is why he decided to build the book box outside his house in the first place.
The book box was a small, yellow wooden cabinet with a glass front. Inside were shelves filled with all kinds of books. David would stock the box with new books every week, hoping that people in his neighborhood would take them and enjoy them as much as he did.
One day, as David was stocking the book box, he noticed a small note tucked inside. The note read, “Thank you for the gift of books. I found one that made me smile, and one that made me cry. Your book box is my treasure trove. I especially enjoyed the poetry book. It inspired me to write a poem for you –
I once went on safari
across the desert sands.
I’ve traveled down the Amazon
and across exotic lands.
I’ve been to Paris,
I’ve been to Rome
and all places near and far.
But the place I love most of all
is where the wild things are.
The poem was about the joy of reading and the way that books can transport us to other worlds. David was touched by Sarah’s note. He had just met her last week, when he had given her some used clothes and some of his late wife’s favorite children’s books, but he knew that she lived down the street in a run-down old house. He decided to write her a note back, thanking her for the kind words and encouraging her to keep reading. Being a poet, he wrote her a poem in return.
From the vastness of the desert,
To the depths of the jungle floor,
You’ve journeyed to many lands,
And returned with tales galore.
Paris, Rome, and cities grand,
You’ve seen them all, across the land,
Yet amidst all this worldly charm,
The wild things hold a special charm.
In the open plains, where the lions roam,
Or the dense forests, the monkeys call home,
There’s a magic in the air,
A rawness that’s beyond compare.
The wild things, with their untamed grace,
Live their lives at an untamed pace,
And in their presence, we feel alive,
As if we too can thrive and survive.
So as you journey on and explore,
From shore to shore, and more and more,
Remember the place that holds your heart,
Where the wild things are, a world apart.
A few days later, David received another note from Sarah. It was another poem, written in her childish scrawl.
David was amazed by Sarah’s talent. He had never read such a beautiful poem before, let alone one written by a young child. He decided to write her another note, telling her how much he enjoyed her poem and how much it meant to him.
From that day on, David and Sarah exchanged notes regularly. They would talk about books, poetry, and life in general. David would leave extra books in the box for Sarah, and she would write him stories and poems.
Eventually, David invited Sarah to come over to his house for tea. She was shy at first, but David quickly put her at ease. They talked about books and shared their favorite stories. Often when she came David would give her a few books to take home with her.
Years passed, and Sarah grew up. She went to college and became a writer, publishing several books of poetry and fiction. But she never forgot David and the book box outside his house. Whenever she was back in town, she would stop by and leave a note or a book, just like she used to.
David eventually passed away, but his book box lived on. It became a gathering place for the neighborhood, a place where people could share stories, ideas, and books. And whenever someone found a book that they loved, they would think of David and the joy he brought to their community.