The Curse of a Book

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.