helenvalentina

On the shelves (Photo credit: peripathetic)

Each Tuesday in deep winter we met to read a book
Each week we nominated the next to take a look
And all our knowledge of our friends came from what they chose
It told us of their secrets, at least what we supposed

For one it was a fantasy, so wild and fired within
Another liked erotica, we guessed she followed sin
One more liked good biography of a celebrated one
We guessed she craved a stage where she’s finally in the sun

One chose a romance of the type that’s old-world and genteel
We thought that finer feelings were the ones she yearned to feel
It was such fun to consider and then psychoanalyse
The truth about a person from the genre that they prized

But then it came to me and what would I then say
So deep within the spirit of this game that we would play?
I suddenly felt the censure or the glee at what I’d choose
And all my precious privacy seemed something not to lose

If I went for drama they’d think my life was grey
If I chose a mystery they’d think I’ve more to say
So if they are to type me let it be hilarity
The only safe choice in the end was to go for comedy.

(c) Helen Valentina 2013, All Rights Reserved

Note: I’ve never actually been in a book group and I don’t actually psychoanalyse anyone by what they read, or write for that matter, so fear not, this was just a bit of fun… 🙂