Bookworm

By now I must have gobbled
Millions of other people's words,
Committing to print
A few thousand of my own.

Every so often life
Jogs my elbow
Reminding me to live.
I get on with it as best I can,
Usually with pleasure
Sometimes without;
Only to sink back
Gratefully
Into words.

With any luck, I may die
With a novel in my hand.