MY BOOK

You sit 
On my nightstand, feeling my eyes
Feeling me yearn for a chance to pick you up
To open you
But I have not done my homework.

I stare
 And  wonder if I can will you into my hands
The faces on your cover are like beacons
Calling for me to share in their joy
Their pain
Calling for me to share in the bountiful beauty of the pages within.

I come
To feast my eyes, my ears, my nose
On this great gift
To hear the soft thump as I open you
Then close you again, and tear myself away
For I have not done my homework.