An open question for the one’s still reading.

What is it that makes you Tik? And I’ll tell you what makes me Tok.

(But for real! What makes you get up in the morning, drives you through the day, and helps guide you to sleep?)

I’m curious to know more about you.

I’m all ears…

Seated in the summer sun

Seated in the summer sun

drenched in heat

reading a novel, alone

how sweet.

With memories of you

drenched in heat,

feet stretched out

along the beach.

Where in the summer sun

you’d sit and read

a novel too, my mother

sweet.

While you’d watch us kids

the swimming sea,

and how you read

effortlessly,

I never wondered then

like I do now,

how a quiet lesson

could teach me how.

I turn each page

my mind at rest,

my mother’s sun

warm on my chest.

FAWAP!

Awake now

on my back

thumbing through

Kerouac

rattle-tat-tat goes the rain…

While the birds chit

and others chat

another day’s here

Oh, what’s that Jack?

ho-hum-mum

FAWAP!

one page at a time.

I sit, and read:

—”Comparisons are odious.”—

sipping, my tea

with birds feeling studious.

It’s calm.

I am happy.

Counting my blessings,

one page at a time.

for those still reading.

Today I noticed I have acquired 350 followers. I wouldn’t think it so wise to follow me so let’s stick to calling everyone Readers! It’s tough enough to balance life’s daily tasks and then find time to read and write but you all have and I continue to do so myself. It’s an important thing I think to keep the mind actively working, no matter what the medium. Hope you all continue to support the arts and yourselves as individuals. Here’s to the next batch of words to come. Thank you to all those still reading, hang loose.

when Whitman sings

I often hide the cover of the book

I’m reading,

commuting on the subway

or relaxing over coffee,

like anyone would care

either way, because yeah!

What if they did? They don’t.

But what if? And how does one explain

his book of choice, when more than not

the books I read give me no choice! Aha!

They’d label me pretentious, surely they should

but what if they didn’t?

Would I really have time for a friend,

when Whitman sings and celebrates self

Oh! You better believe I butt in.

The trouble with book lovers.

Two book lovers
sit together
on the subway
reading
alone.

Do they
have
anything
much to say
to one another?

Or
is
the story
they’re reading
better?

Probably not.