(Week Eight) Improvisation #3 of Form

of Ed. Hirsch's' "The Reader"

My Improv':

It waited for her in the study, unfinished
and hardly sorry. For three weeks it lay there
reflecting on nothing, she knew. How difficult
its silence. She had given words, given form
from its prose. Tercets like tails that wind, sexy
long legs. But unsatisfied still, it ignored her
advances, any come-on was cheap and distasteful.