Let That Book Be Read


So that’s how books end-up on the floor.


How ugly is the shiny book that sets upon the shelf,

Without an ounce of wear to show, it should scuff itself.

Hide the embarrassing signs of neglect and jump out on the floor,

Maybe trampled by passing feet or creased by swinging door.


Or better yet some melting snow, pressed in by winter boot,

Or corner chewed by playful pup, about anything will suit.

Now come-on dear folks and give that book adventuresome abuse,

Stuff it in your saddlebags upon trustee cayuse.


Or poke it in your purse, but keep it near the top,

Let it remind you it is there at every single stop.

Read some pages while you brush your teeth or one while you pump gas,

Feed those hungry eyes some words, don’t let a wasted second pass.


Before the game, slide that precious book into your back pocket,

Or when you paddle the Heart River, be sure that you Ziploc it.

Any place that you must wait, let the time go past,

So when called up to the desk you say, “Now that was really fast.”


Let that book get weathered, scarred from use beneath the sun,

Let its pride grow with age, let it know its battle’s won.

Next time you pass by that shelf, let that book be read,

Give it reason for its life, before it’s tossed as dead.

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