There is a squirrel that keeps climbing through my window…a bookish squirrel….part of a poem for this inquisitive creature…….
May I come in Sir/Madam?
This is a wondrous place
With a bookshelf of wood
And books lined like soldiers
Waiting to why die with bullets?
The door is shut
But the window ajar
Just about enough of room
And welcome for me to enter
Or steal in. Your books are delightful, they make me think………….
Shut even that?
But I was starting to like the look and feel
Look at you knock knock knock looking at me
Knock knock knock without the light of understanding in your
Eyes heavy with books and book covers and pages and pages
Of words and syllables and letters of thought,
Look at the way night stays in a room shut out!