The Poet and One of His Readers

He escapes from the everyday reality to immerse himself in aged books. The fragrance between the crispy vintage pages infuses his nostril like April blooms. He imagines someone is reading one of his poems under a flaming Japanese maple bathed in Autumn glory.

She shies away from the crowded room and retreats into the oversized recliner in the studies, letting the scent of old poetry books calm her mind. Her delicate fingers dance with each stanza in rhythms only Braille can play so fluidly. She wonders how his hand moved when he composed all those crests and troughs so pleasing to her heart.