RIGMOSS & THE BOOK.

[dadio]

Rigmoss closes the book.
He brushes his hand over
The stiff black cover. Smooth,
Warm. He lifts to sniff, takes
In the scent. She’d handled
The book before him, her hands
Had held the book as his do now.
What had she made of the contents?
He has no way of knowing. He’d
Watched her take out the book from
The shelf, take away to a desk to read.
He’d watched her from another desk,
Seen her sit and turn pages, holding
Between two fingers. He holds the book
Against his cheek, hoping that some
Aspects of her may touch his skin.
She had read a number of pages,
Had taken notes into a notepad.
He wishes her fingers could have
Touched him. He wishes her eyes
Could have looked into his eyes and
He may have seen a paradise there.
He opens the book again. What pages
Had she read and taken notes from,
He wonders. His eyes scan a number
Of pages. He sighs, closes the book.
A strand of hair rests on the cover.
Not his. Hers maybe. He holds it up
To the light. Her hair colour, her hair.
He places the hair between pages of
His small notebook. Later he will take
Out, hold between finger and thumb,
And carefully like some scholar look.

[joel]

Mist!
So because I'm bald and read a Kindle, I guess I need to prepare to disappoint my stalkers!
But honestly, I really admire and enjoy the stories you pull out of life through a snapshot of human reality.
Great stuff....

[dadio]

Thank you, Joel.