A Literate Interlude
In a stolen moment
of solitude I sit
at the base of my
bookshelf and
surrender to swirling
synaptic symphonies of
Solzhenitsyn
In yet another
purloined pause
I pensively peruse
Poe’s pedantically
petrifying ponderings
I desperately desire
a day to dutifully
devour Dickinson’s
dreamy dirges
Alas
my children call
and I must leave
my literary wonderland
all is not lost
for bedtime is near
and Dr. Seuss awaits
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