Worn, dusty cover
Whines reluctantly
As I tiptoe my fingers
Across the threshold
From reality to imagery
I caress each page
With coercive touches
Like a wooing lover
Coaxing pleasure from
His prey
My eyes grow wide
And glassy
Delighted giggles
Trickle upward
And out of my throat
The sound startles me
I must be careful
Not to interrupt myself
From this refreshing respite
I am on a journey
To words and ideas
Previously unknown to me
How will I get there?
I may walk, saunter, sprint
Soar or blast
Into the black belly of space
I shed skin
Leaving bits of myself
On each page
Who will I be
At the end?
Only God knows

◄ Weaving Woman

My Love For You, Earth ►


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