I admit it. I failed this challenge. It was offerred on poet Adele Kenny’s blog, The Music In It. I was challenge to write about a phone. If you read on, you’ll discover there is no phone in my poem. There was, but the poem didn’t like it; therefore, I removed it. I never disobey the poem. It’s smarter than I am.
To the Book Seller
I thought of you today as I passed your shop,
imagined you settled on a stool behind the counter –
your hands spread the wings of a new volume
of old poetry: Whittier or Longfellow. The scent
of crisp paper warms a moment like a coffee
liberating heat – yours a blend of cinnamon,
two splashes of whiskey. Each book remains attentive,
in its place – a silent company. Each covets your attention,
your fingers to scrape the edge of pages, the stiff line of its spine.
A young lady, her hair still damp – an afternoon’s
light rain – cradles Kerouac and Nabakov. Excuse me,
she asks, which do you prefer? That depends, you say.
Will you be pouring red wine or white? Her eyes - as green as spring.
- Writing Challenge: Shadow (thelintinmypocket.wordpress.com)