Soft lyrics billow from the next room,
Wrapping their syllables around my body.  
Drenching my skin in warm, buttery tunes.
Floating behind the words on the page,
As I watch the stories unfurl from my book.
Sometimes I forget that I’m reading,
I can see everything as clearly as the island
From my beach on a still July morning.
My eyes stop seeing and my fingers
no longer turn the pages,
I am part of the tale.
Engulfed by the stark poetry of being alive.
A passive, invisible witness to the lives of the characters,
As they run across my mind and live onwards in my imagination.