|‘Narrative’, courtesy of Pixabay.com|
Why do I buy so many books;
far more than I can read?
The answer’s simple, you will see;
a look is all I need!
I spy The Catch (1) upon the shelf;
of Smith’s in Colchester.
I did not come for this to buy,
so why not let it rest?
It eyes me up – the stag on front,
dressed up in tapestry.
I snap it up and take a glance,
at words that shout at me.
Creatures, beasts and lives – half-formed!
Compost and long-gone breath.
I know not yet the poet’s tales,
but feel I know the rest.
I’ve passed the test; can stand my own
a poem’s in my head.
But now I’ve stolen t’ other’s words
It’s only right by stead
to march up to the till and pay
for words thrown in my pot.
To read it whole is not my style,
but my old brain won’t rot’!