There’s a secret joy

in the reading of a book

when you’ve read the book before,

but far enough back in your memory

so the particulars:

“How many days and nights

did Santiago fight

the great Marlin?”

“Why all the fuss over

a field of beans?”

are fading .

Only a dim truth remaining

like your old, frayed Teddy Bear

buried there

in the bottom of your box of toys,

“This was a great story

and I didn’t want it to end!”

So,

Like a locked door in the attic of an old manse,

slowly opening –

Like the first touch on a sensuous night,

shared with your spouse of thirty years,

Like holding Teddy tight

for one more night.

Each rediscovered treasure,

each climactic pleasure

recreates the feeling

of the first time.

So, Dear Reader,

unlock the door.

Take the chance

to begin again the tender dance.

Open the book once more.