Just yesterday I opened up a book
Beloved by those whose taste I know and trust.
But fifteen minutes later I was hooked-
Engrossed as to the daily grind I bussed.

Fatigue and miscommunications kept
Me from advancing further in the story
But that night as I closed my eyes and slept,
I hunted, and the novel was my quarry.

This morning on the bus, my bag revealed
No longed-for tale. I found myself unable
My self-exasperation to conceal
Recalling that the book was on the table.

Such busy days and too-exhausted nights
Can lead to disappointing oversights.