She dreams with her eyes open,
Of imaginary worlds and tales unspoken.
Page after page, of castles and storms,
She reads until the waking dawn.
Late night as the world falls asleep,
She curls with her cup, another page to read.
A yawn muffled by bookish thoughts
And the scent of imaginary forget me nots .
She places her book on a nearby counter,
With the caress of a gentle lover.
Glancing at her bookshelf she goes to sleep,
Dreaming of the thousand lives she once lived.
To all the bookworms who always read "just one more page" till the book ends
