Thursday, October 8, 2009


I don’t know why I asked him for more

As I sat cross legged on the floor beneath him.

His wooden wired body

lifted another book from the pile.

I had chosen them from

a library.

He opened the first page and

re read the Title.

My eyes gaped open when he began;

staring at his narrating face

and seeing the woods unfold around us.

The carpet was brightly colored

and squared off to

teach me about the alphabet.

His rocking chair

swayed with the bend in his knees.

He read and read and read

and when he stopped

I had learned how to read to myself

so I read and read and re read

until we both

got glasses and paper skin

to match our

failing lungs.

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