Sunlight filtered through window blinds
On sea of light gold cotton blends
Like the sand encrusted winds
And Arabian Nights
Eyes intent on the treasures before her
Mouth open wide
Sunlight resting on skin, adrift
Silky blue and hues of cream
I dream of whales
Call me Ishmael.
In my direction
Her smile a shining beacon
In dark eyes
I am watching, in this moment, hers
My fingers flip a page
Teleport me to another world
And she thinks that I do not see her.
That I do not see
Her magic carpet ride
She seems to think that I don’t understand
Her search for the perfect flavor.
I go to her and hold her close.
She is wise beyond her years it seems.
The best way to experience a book is to consume it.
I just wish she didn’t do it