Book

How to cope with a loved Book ?
Flipping the pages beyond the cover’s look;
warping the chronology and leaping,
already yearning eagerly for the ending ?
No, never; my fingerprints are engraved
and over the signs of soft pages followed;
letters after letters, revelations after revelations;
uttering similes caused by my actions!

Can I kiss the Book? Left my print in the paper,
captive in the surface; maybe even in cover…
So many times I will translate and methodically analyze
after the answers, precious gems, I can appraise…
and praise the resilient message
with my own elaborated visage…

Smile, Book, smile. I place you before a mirror now –
Today you talk – today, tomorrow, today; tomorrow –
I can only betray you with yourself,
despite the many tomes in the bookshelf.
The pages are too few for all the memories to contain
and the hazy ink seeps drenched by the rain.

Ah, Book, even when you are secure in the shelves
I carry you – and you and you…- in my soul’s hives…
and in my lap you can repose still
teasing me to run against the windmill…
Misleading me in your garden of forked ways,
a labyrinth where a reader unharmed strays…