Written on October 20, 2025
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It would be bedtime, and I’d rise Risking the possibility of chastisement By the mother who taught me, with her smiles That my reading Nancy Drew, Trixie Belden Every book in each collection – the Hardy Boys too Wasn’t just a trait passed down to me, to her pleasure It was a trait she, herself, had spread – a disease If not verbally, then with each moment she’d spent Turning pages, lingering amid chapters of inspired Dreams and imaginations, wanderings I’d come to accept as my heart’s blessing And I’d rise, with the intent of going to my room Where I’d keep a light beneath the quilts, Consuming the words with a heart full of wonder, A heart who would always see my own smiles Reflected on pages filled with castles I’d hoped to build Myself, and forts that found their way into my wishes Mine is a heart filled with worlds that were not my own, beneath the shadows of a warm quilt and sheets who remember me… as that girl who found her home amid words
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