My eyes brisk over your words,

Arms heavy from holding you over my head.

My eyes just as heavy.

The sleepiness of the midnight hour take its toll,

As my eyes begin to drop.

The thin page continues to turn,

Even after I let go,

Sweeping my face,

Like the whiskers of a kitten.

Finally I fall into a slumber,

But your story still races through my mind,

As if I was still reading you.

Your story of unrealistic adventure,

Imaginary characters breathing words of heroism.

The plot tries to escape my head, but my mind is not done with you.

Not yet.

So I embrace your hardback cover,

Press it into my chest,

And Dream.