I was trying to read a book
When you came along and insisted
That I read you instead.
You were forceful in your persuasions;
Insinuating yourself between me
And the page, like a fur clad bookmark.
Tail in my face and the buzz of your voice
Creeping through my head
As you crept across my pages,
Ruffling thoughts and paper alike
To the point of distraction.
How could I ignore you ?
Such a perfect edition and so responsive
Beneath my fingers. You are better
Than a story in braille.
Through you I can read of summer fields,
The smelled taste of daisies and buttercups,
Nose high grass and the heat of the sun
On day-warmed fur; the drowsiness
Of a warm room and a comfortable lap.
There is nothing better than
Curling up on a good book.
J S Watts, East Anglia, UK