Book Lover

On my desultory way home from work
I saw a book on the sidewalk
A simple paperback novel
No identifying marks at this distance and speed
No nearby potential owner searching with purposeful steps
Only words on pages fluttering aimlessly in the sweltering sun
How did it get there, this literary discrepancy?
Thrown, perhaps, in a fit of pique at an unwanted turn of events
Or discarded as trash due to uninteresting tales
Fallen out of a bag, greatly missed later
Perhaps this was someone's only treasure
Or an excuse for unfinished homework
Now lying, incongruous, where books are never placed intentionally
I hope that it is claimed by an appreciative finder
I can't bear the thought of words unread