The poor dreamer

I stroll through the aisles

of the tightly snug novels.

I reach for one and read the back,

But I remember I am just looking

I don't have the money to purchase.

So I try and return it

But it won't go back.

It must be destiny.

So although I was reluctant,

I scribbled down the name of the book and author,

put the slip in my bag

and shove the book unceremoniously onto the shelf.

I walk out the front door

with the promise of returning tomorrow,

desperately wishing I hadn't eaten that cookie with lunch.