Quite literal

When it comes to you
I only speak when spoken to.
You're the flame to my moth,
The thread, the cloth;
A book whose very pages I love.

This is not about a person.

It's really unusual for me to write anything and not date it, but this is one of the rare few. It can't be too old... probably from this fall, during one of the times I turned off the Discovery channel for a bit and stared at shelves.