Strictly For The Birds

While reading I can hear you sing
insisting so
to put away my book
and pay attention to your thrills,
your songs, your company.

You sit there, then you fly amongst the treetops
and amongst green leaves
which are the leaves of your own books
and are mine too;
for in those leaves I find my soul refreshed.

Your song? It lifts my soul.
This poem? I must dedicate to you with thanks. But look!
It saddens me to think what you must think of ME, but please!
Take better aim and spare my book!