The Reader

by Ethel Mortenson Davis

He has taken
his dinner with delight,
relishing each morsel,
tasting each bite
by rolling it
on his tongue.

He mouths the words,
forming them
on his lips,

as he escapes
to his world —
the one called ecstasy.


Filed under Ethel Mortenson Davis, poems, Poetry

2 responses to “The Reader

  1. I have sometimes wondered how much those who can speed read absorb from the material they assimilate. Other times I am tempted to be envious. I love reading, but there is so .much out there and so very little time.

  2. I love this, Ethel. Delectable, the words….!

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