"When I am near the end of a book,
I have to sleep in the same room with it." - Joan Didion
Quilt-wrapped silence, soft, over-the-shoulder light,
breached only by a crisp cadence of slowly turned pages,
purring feline, or perhaps a winter's fire banked in the grate.
It's hard to let go of loved ones, held tenderly,
pages never creased; occasionally sprawled upon my chest,
eyes having surrendered to their dancing drops of black ink.
I've tried libraries, often drag reluctant feet upon return,
slyly pay a "lost" fee; become a "guardian" -
add to bedside's ever growing, slowly leaning, Tower of Pisa.
Books deeply double stacked await for favor, for obsession
as my finger slides across spines trying to decide
who will share my bed, my mind into the wee hours of the night.
by Margaret Bednar, November 6, 2016
This is linked with "Imaginary Garden with Real Toads - Play it Again, Toads!" I chose "The Poetry in a Quote" prompt hosted by Susie Clevenger back in April 2015.