I cannot remember
The first book I read.
The first time I felt
Alive.
That's what it is, always has been
To me.
A story, a narrative, a journey,
More real than the hand holding the book.
I open a book,
And feel at home.
For as long as I can remember,
Interaction, daily necessities,
Have felt
Forced.
But when the page turns,
My heart flutters.
Life is hard,
To one and all.
But books are constant,
And speak to the soul.
-
Author:
Anna Wakey29 (
Offline) - Published: September 10th, 2026 21:19
- Comment from author about the poem: This was written for a contest, but it is a simplistic version of how I relate to reading. Having had a tough life, books have been a constant comfort.
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 9
Offline)
Comments3
The escape a book provides from daily life is illustrated in this poem. Nicely done
Thank you!
Most welcome
Yes, a good book you read many times.
Access to ideas it would be difficult to encounter in any other medium. Possibly the best portal to pass through in a quest for truth.
Take care of yourself.
Totally agree. And I am doing very well I hope you are too 🙂
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