Books

 

 

I am in bed

you are looking at my books

bright colourful things

I wrote one or two of them myself.

You pick them up

and read the spines

one by one.

I watch you.

You don’t notice.

I close my eyes

and hear you turning the pages

the flutter of a well-thumbed book

my personal favourite.

I read the book,

you watched the film.

It’s a classic.

It’s a bad representation.

I am amazed, and warm

You are looking at my books.

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