Expired Plastic

The book was heavy,

a story I once knew.

Handed over the plastic,

a faded blue.

She typed my name in,

her face a weary plea.

Said, "This card's no good, dear.

Expired, you see."

My younger self,

a blurry, hopeful stare,

from that warped rectangle,

thin, past all repair.

Years gone by,

a future unread.

Just a silent statement,

the library dead.

I took it back,

that thin, sad piece of me.

Just walked out then,

no more history.