The gentle hum of the wind was my only companion,
As I sat in bed with a paperback molded to my hands.
Every so often the gentle whoosh of snow would distract me,
From the tale in far off lands.
But the book was an old friend,
I knew it better than any.
It was the story I often returned to,
When my needs or worries were many.
This time it was my heart,
That I needed to escape.
This book would be the quickest fix,
Well, at least better than tape.
I wanted to just get away,
From my feelings and my mind.
But sometimes longing doesn't like
To be left behind.
They couldn't help me, not this time,
To flee the world I knew.
Cuz every time I read his name,
Of course I think of you.