It smells glorious –
The familiar scent
Of ink on paper
With a hint of perfume
Which the pages, over years
Have absorbed from rooms
 
I thumb the edges
Feeling the texture
While fanning the scent
Producing olfactory pleasure
 
I breathe in deeply
The pages beckon me 
I touch the soft cover
Smooth, cool, and shiny
I caress it tenderly
 
Feel the grooves of title letters
Beneath fingertips
Tracing textures and dips
 
I embrace it
I love its portability
Which allows it to be
Tucked into bags
Or brought up 
Into the boughs of a tree
 
Or buried under pillows
So it can
So I can
Be stolen away –
Any place
Or
Any time of Day
 
The weight of it my hands 
Feels satisfying
And the gravity of it 
Pulls me in –
I am not content
Just to smell, see, and touch
I’m voracious
Desire words to munch
 
So, I open the cover
To survey the banquet –
I savor tidbits
Or devour it in feasts
Taste sweet desserts
Sample the meats
And sometimes
Drink the words in
Like intoxicating wine
I can return any time
 
I can also hear the pages speak
In whispers
Or shouts
In every quotation
My mind gives life to voices
I hear: accents, inflections, intonations
Pregnant pauses
Exclamations
Cadence and rhythm 
Found on every line
I can even hear what is
Intentionally,
Not said –
This is how well I’ve come to know
This friend of mine
 
Even when I’ve had my fill
And close the cover with a satisfying 
Thud
I gnaw on the words
Like a bovine chewing cud
 
I touch the spine gently
Run my fingers down the line
And whisper softly to my 
Wonder-ful friend
“Until next time” 
 
I have other friends waiting
In libraries
In bookstores
On the shelf 
Each one similar in certain ways
In shape, and ink on page
But they are
Delightfully unique in others
Which makes me love them all the more
Open the cover
Open a door 
 
To greet a new
Or familiar 
Friend
I’ll lay out the welcome mat –
My loving hands