"WORDS! WORDS! WORDS!"

Dylan Thomas
lay on the floor

looking a bit
the worse for wear.

A knocked over glass
of whiskey soaking into him

drinking by osmosis
"Writer's Tears."

Richard Hannay
lay beside him

untouched by the whiskey
which stopped just short

of him even though
he was a fictional character.

Shakespeare perched
upon her topmost shelf

all the individual plays
rather than a Collected.

Thomas Hardy
was beside himself.

His Complete Works
looking down on

Buchan's Hannay.

"Pride and Promiscuity"
stood side by side with
"Pride and Prejudice and Zombies."

An Oktay Rifat
caught the eye
( merely a Selected ).

And my oh my
all of Rilke's Poems in French.

The candlelight flickered
longingly over each tome

touching tenderly
each spine

the leather bindings
spell binding.

A honeycomb of
literary treasures.

"So..?" she stammered
ever so nervously.

"I see you've met my library!"
she chuckled.

"I guess this is
where you kiss me!"

she demanded defiantly
Chaucer casually thrown aside.

The books didn't know
where to look.