An Author's Stage

Thoughts are faraway, though they should be near,

All my thoughts nowadays seem to steer

Away from my senses, far, faraway,

To another land--maybe today?

Books are opened, words are read,

I opened my mouth, I wish I hadn't said,

The words that made them leap off the page,

Making life like an author's stage.

Characters walking, roaming the earth,

At first it was great--I was full of mirth,

But soon dangerous things seemed to surround me,

I had to get them back--but I'd lost the key.

I searched high and low, for years, it was,

I had to find, had to find it because,

The people from the books had escaped into our world,

And the unstoppable fate's ship, its sails unfurled.

I found it one day, looking through books,

I didn't care about the strange looks,

That I got as I jumped with victory,

Because, now at least, I had the key.

I read the words, on the page,

And suddenly it was the book that was the stage,

They were swept back up, into the book,

And with relief, I finally shook.

So now I don't read, well, only with my eyes,

For if I did it with my mouth, you'd been in for a surprise,

For the characters, good and bad, would jump off the page,

And suddenly our world would be an author's stage.