Books By My Bed

By Justine C. Tajonera

When the household
settles down,
when the curtains are
drawn,
when the dishes
have been
dried,
I lean towards
the lamp
and reach out
for the silent
companion
for the
night.


I do not feel
deprived
of sleep
as the narrator
slowly
unfolds,
spreads out
and rolls to the
edges
of the
story.

I am privileged,
laughing privately
or moved
to tears.

And while I may not
have reread
most of the
books by
my bed,

I am loath
to part
with such
faithful friends
and I carry them
from house to
house,
familiar
and once-beloved,
like a child
who cannot
let go
of the ragged
old
bear.

(Dec. 3, 2009)

Image from http://www.flickr.com/photos/nicmcphee/352157407/in/photostream/