Ode to My Books

The first opus I read threw me to the ground, And took me to a whole new colorful place With a candid heroine Who kept getting into one catastrophe after another, And an animated marauder who receives The task of helping her on her electrified journey Through the hellish seas and wild islands. With each unfamiliar work of fiction Another story unfolds in my mind, Each tells of expeditions blossoming May it be with egotistical princesses, Indomitable princes, outrageous or pliable creatures, Or a smash about quotidian proletariats, Each fantasy brings horror or sadness Or happiness or laughter, Depending on the puppet master Who pulls the strings of the characters In the sagas. These books are my life, They are the bible to my mind, Leading the path of my imaginings, The paperbacks tell my wants And my convictions. Each teleporting me to another world With ineffable contrivances And alarming acquisitions, When I read narratives, they take me beyond What I am primitively capable of doing To experience marvelous epics, Each time these novels take me far away And I can be whoever I want to be.