Curled up on my oversized chair
Beneath a soft blanket,
I flipped through the pages of a new book.
The familiar smell of printer’s ink and paper
Mingled with the aroma of my fresh coffee.
Tucked between the crisp pages,
I found a fragment of myself.
It fell from the book and fluttered down onto my lap.
I picked it up,
Turning it this way and that
In the cool April light.
Its facets shone
And it warmed under my touch.
Delighted, I ran to my bookshelf and began pulling out novels.
Rifling through their pages, looking behind their dust jackets,
I found more and more pieces of my self.
Some pieces were totally new and undiscovered.
Others were pieces I hadn’t realized I had lost.
All of them rebuilt me in some small way,
Returning myself to myself,
Or shaping into me something changed and beautiful.