Printed

My time for me, away from me

Away from the white noise and uncertainties of life

To be in a world apart from my own

A far away land in the comfort of home

Like the wizardry of a powerful mage

The mystical combination of ink and of page

The words printed come from another

But the world they create is mine

The rough texture of a dragon's scale

The smell of fur singed by laser fire

The creak of the aged boards underfoot

All suggested by words

But given life only when I close my eyes

The author gives them purpose

But I give them life

And they joyfully return the favor. 

 

This poem is about: 
Me

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