Sep 2010
As I Sit Under A Tree
I Wish Only To Be Me
Into My Book I Stare
And Read 'Bout A Demon's Lair
But Always My Mother Calls Me
Back Into Reality
And I Always Say To Her
"I Wish Only To Read A Bit Further!"
Still My Beautifully Wonderful
Books Are, Oh, So Loveable
And I Always Think
I Don't Have Blood... I HAVE INK
I Wish Only To Be Me
Into My Book I Stare
And Read 'Bout A Demon's Lair
But Always My Mother Calls Me
Back Into Reality
And I Always Say To Her
"I Wish Only To Read A Bit Further!"
Still My Beautifully Wonderful
Books Are, Oh, So Loveable
And I Always Think
I Don't Have Blood... I HAVE INK
This poem was written a while ago, around the time that I wrote "Love" and is really the reason I continued to write. Everyone I read it too, told me it was great and that they wanted to hear more of my poems... It is the only one of my poems that I have memorized. ^_^
(Winnipeg, Manitoba.)
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