I find you to be demanding today. Demanding to be eternally read and remembered, while thousands more continue to be born and bred, taking up shelves in bookshops and libraries that I may never get to see, touch or smell. Pages unflipped, will yellow before the dust settles.
I find you to be wanting today. Wanting to be picked from the shelf, to lay open and breathe. And so I will. I will take each of you down, let you lie on the cold wood, naked and free. Stretch your legs. Go wild and let the wind kiss you, flip over your fading brown, and bend your spine.
I find you to be seeking today. Seeking to be close to me, like a lover. You whisper through the corners of my bag – nudging me to sneak glimpses at you and snatch words from half-opened pages, every chance I get. In a synchronous dance, we move, we slide – we read, we ride.