You walk for weeks upon weeks

Same clothes, dirty skin, untamed hair

The ground is your bed, rocks your pillows, the leaves your sheets

You travel without direction or care

 

At first you had qualms about adventure,

Sure it wasn’t your forte.

But then you go, have fun, see the world, how it’s pure

You become a legend, find treasure, fulfill quests without pay

 

And when it’s all done, when you go home - you wish to be back

You sleep on a bed too soft, food too extensive, clothes too clean

Yearning for fields to roam, for it is adventure life lacks

Walls of white when you’re aching for meadows of pink, blue, green

 

So you dream of these foreign lands

Never to be seen again, never to be traveled, never to be appreciated

You smear graphite onto parchment with your hands

Fill a leather bound book with words, create the world once more, the world you founded

 

Your pencil becomes your sword, paper your shield

Words are your new escape, your new adventure

In stories you’re the Queen, you become the knight that kneeled

You become the most noble, of the lands you stir

 

All because of a story written on paper

All those foreign lands become closer