Last night I began a joyful read

A book I'd read many times before

I turned its pages in gentle need

Of prolongation of the plot in store

Savouring every punctuation mark

Phrase and verb  my eyes caress

It's pages mirror the fluid stroke

Of a woman by Henri Matisse 

Haunted by the nagging known

That every page is another step 

To closure of this wondrous tome

I pause to savour a sensuous swept