Reading

His little hands move carefully together,
palms open to the sky,
with a look of hope in his inquiring eyes,
as his unwilling mouth works
to create the word he needs
to support his request.

He carefully selects from a pile of books
scattered on the floor,
the favorite of the week,
and chuckles as he turns around,
carefully backing himself into my lap
for a story we've read a thousand times,

Delicate fingers turn the pages now,
where once they would have torn,
and he sits and leans against my chest,
as if I were built to be his chair,
just he and I with book in hand,
and I hope we'll read ten thousand more.