the book of Layla

 
you enter wearing your rich smell of books;
an exotic perfume
I get lost in your pages
so Earthy with complex notes
a foreign land I'd been to as a child

your poetry awakens my memories;
of these places and sights
I'd forgotten them;
put away with childhood dreams
when the reality of life turned out to be drudgery

you bring me back to life
you're proper England, New Delhi after dark
I drink your tea and I'm instantly transported;
back to when I was a learned lady
hungry for the wealth of knowledge
astute in its pursuit

I love the feel of you
your soul speaks a language of true understanding
your words envelop a reader
and take them to the time and place of your epiphany
you share the joys with us
like we had toiled in the gardens of love's truth with you

sitting out on your veranda
you ask us to stay for lunch
opening your world to we voyeurs;
to the pleasant rain that splashes from your mind

creating art and culture and all the things I crave
but have been ostracized by poor choices
you welcome me in as a dear old friend
inviting me to feast my soul; to renew my spirit
in the book of Layla my hunger sated