You gaze at me looking at my cover,
peeking your interest you pick me up.
You decide to take me home
You're more of an inmate reader.
Setting the tone, putting away all distractions. You run your hands over my spine admiring the outside of me before you dive in. You bring me close and smell my aroma.
How many hands have I been in before yours, you wonder.
You open me up, your fingers connect
with my pages. Tapping gently as you read. Starting out slow, you pay attention. Your eyes run over me back & fourth, up and down. Stimulated with the mix of words and the tone at which they are written. Your heart is pounding, and you lick your finger to turn my page.
My animations have you craving more so further you dive in trying to get to the climax. But you stop.
Pulling away you leave your hand touching me, but not loosing your place. Taking a moment to soke it all in. My pages gripping your fingers yearning for you to run them across my words. But you close me up and leave not finished but just for a break. Until next time and until the next break. Read me until my very last page.
(C) Amanda Morgan 2/16/2020