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.