Did Elanor succumb to Ralph's temptations, or James felt heartbroken at Elanor's secret?
My drooping eyes bid them goodnight, eager to chat with them the next day
Lonely or moody, angry or happy, characters snuggled in bookshelf
takeout time, engross me in their musky world,
my dislike for Ralph
heightened respect for James chews each word.
Relations with unknown travellers, some brief, some stretch
last month on Bosporus River, the pervious on German border
my days or months soak in Naipaul's wet British weather
or chill in Desai's Darjeeling with the old judge.
The lure of the printed pages, the authors stares
as I pass amidst chores
stacks of spirituality, suspense, memoirs fantasy, fiction
in comfort of my living room, a bit of me arrested in some page
in novels read.
The comfort of their presence in shelves or in my hand
pleasure of their company, they do not judge me, nor leave my side.
My house lifeless in their absence,
shelves increase to nudge old ones and shift for new arrivals
old ones revisited to jog memory
some wink at the other, author in two places
favourites do emerge, yet none left out
conversation of lifetime
both committed hands held in matrimony forever.
