Ink Stains

 

Say, what’s your rush,

What’s your hurry?

Can’t you hang around,

Just a little longer, dear?

I’ve got, here, I’ve got

Something to show you.

Won’t you come closer

And take a peek, just a peek.

Take my hand, I promise

The stains won’t rub off on you

These are mine, from the paper

And I keep them to myself, but

Here, take a look at the words.

Yes, aren’t they lovely,

Aren’t they grand?

They’re the words of

My dear girl,

My lovely book girl,

Who spends her days among the shelves.

Sometimes, I’ll take my paper

And we’ll sneak between the pages together

Behind shelf number seventeen,

Where she hides the pair of scissors

We use to cut the news

And the faces, the faces

Of the other girls.

It’s only her, here, now.