Bookworm

The cracks on the roof and the glow of the lamp,

Dampness of the walls and the empty fish tank,

The books and the reading glasses on the table,

A half eaten chocolate and an untouched apple,

Wood burning in the fireplace and the mantle,

Framed faces on the mantle and the candles,

A door open and a window with drawn curtains,

The throw on the sofa and the upturned cushion,

A pen lying beneath the throw with the crumbs,

And few bits of paper and a pin, and some gum,

A girl in a baggy sweater and loose pyjamas,

A book in her lap and legs resting beneath her,

Hair undone, sleepy eyes and unwashed feet,

With brows drawn, she reads with fervour,

Smiles and sulks, frowns and giggles the girl,

There is a world in the books she reads about,

She lives in there, aloof to the world around.

No fly can bother; no chill can give her a shiver,

She smells nothing foul, she sees no litter,

Folded pages with torn edges, highlighted lines,

The girl seems content with the books in sight,

I long to be her with hair undone, sleepy eyes,

And unwashed feet and a book by my side!