Smells

Old paper must and dust
Sunlight on the cushioned chairs
Old oak wood held in place with nails that are
Giving off the smell of rust
And tiny light blue lichens
Barely scenting the air
Growing on that crisp, sweet maple
Growing outside the window
The cooler smell of cobwebbed corners, and the shade that they provide
I sit and open up a book
And as I part it's brittle pages
I smell that old fashioned
Binding glue
And more paper, sweeter now
With the slight hint of printers ink
I just tried my best
To describe the smell
I smell in my dreams
Its so familiar
But I can't place it
I wish I could find
That smell again