Living Through The Pages

I was about six years old when my mother took
Me into this big place filled with books,
As I was walking down the rows and rows
Of many books, I started to get that feel
Of the pages as I flip through them one by one.
Its rainy days I learn how to walk there
Alone on my eight year old birthday,
Mom saw me coming as my bag was filled
With lots of books with bright colours and pictures,
School projects came I was first to shoot up my finger
As I know I was about to discover the world
Of an encyclopaedia, I would see my schoolmates
Damage books, as they would tear the inner pages,
It crushed me how despicable and disrespectful they were.
As I got older those picture books became love tales,
Mystery, suspense, I learn more and more about
The reason why books are there
It’s educational and also entertaining,
As I would read tons of books per week,
Later my mind would want to follow
Wherever this writer is taking his characters,
I would slowly write down the author’s names
For future references,
Who ever knew that deep within my subconscious?
A budding writer was living,
Trying to put myself on that journey
As I dig for love and creativity
Distinguishing the two together I knew then
That books was going to be my life.
Living through the pages of my own journey.

13/06/2011

© Chimnese Davids, All rights reserved

Poetry Picnic Week #13 Childhood, Dreams, Books, and Role Models,