The last thing I heard
was a slap
"Don't
worry, I'll be back,
When
you've finished that"
Turning
my head not missing a beat
The
villain had set down--what?
There
laid the tale to be told.
Papers
on papers, like tortuous fiends.
smiled
at me with dangerous edges,
waiting--willing--for
me to read.
"Mother"
I pleaded, banging on my door
"I'll
do anything, everything," I begged
just
come play with me some more.
Silence,
a moment, then again, I heard
"Don't
worry, I'll be back,
When
you've finished that."
I
hit my head against the wall
until
the ringing in my head sounded
as
if bell were singing their painful groans.
When
that was done, and no one listen,
I
took the book to pretend
that
I was a weight lifter.
Then,
I was a track star--
Shot
put to be specific.
Launching
it like a missile.
It
came crashing down not far away.
Sprawled
out like a jelly fish
put
on a cruel display.
It's
pages lay open to a peculiar scene
A
picture of a little kid in green.
His
face smiled mischievously, a beckoning call.
Page
by page, going back to the start
One
must know, you see, that curiosity
was
getting the best of me.
Now
the turning had come in reverse,
Page
after page with ravenous fervor
I
read onward through the book.
To
a land far off I flew,
with
pixy- dust and a little bit of trust.
It
is plan to see that I could be he.
Peter
Pan, the boy who never grew up.
Then,
with a sudden creak,
Mother
poked her head around the door.
"Wendy
is gone, and will never come back.
What
will he do? Why didn't she stay?
It's
not fair mommy, it not"
With
book in hand, I laid back my head.
My
eyes were tired, and ready to sleep,
But
I kept reading.
Why
read? you might ask,
It's
easy: the curse of a book is
Wonder.
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