four

Four decided to sit on the floor.
One decided to read.
Another followed along,
A third listened carefully,
And the last one was the fourth.

The last one was the fourth,
but not to be outdone.
Listening carefully he wrote in his heart,
his pen strokes, his wandering mind.
He was writing a book not yet written.

He was writing a book not yet written,
But he knew how it would end.
Four old friends would sit on the floor,
One would read, two would follow,
And he would just be.