Distant memories of growing up,
Spent hiding in an old bookshop.

Gliding along in Romance
Imagining a stolen dance,
Up and down, and up the aisle
Elegant at 12, and full of style
Waiting for a tall dark stranger
Other days, embracing danger;
Action, Adventure, squealing in Thriller
Feeling daring and attempting a chiller
Horror, Adventure, Drama, Sci-Fi
Freely indulging a laugh and a cry

In Fantasy on weekends, unleashing my passions
For the paperback universe of my imagination;

Eyes to page, one word at a time
An addiction; word affliction- just one more line.

Then 15, and still, retreating in books
Literally and figuratively in crannies and nooks
Leaving behind the adolescent day
Slotting myself into a Shakespearean play

Tragedy reflecting tragedy
Majesty and travesty
Comedy and laughter- sometimes.
Everything is funny when you read between the lines.

Fiction, fact, poetry or vignette,
I knew them once, by sight.
Hello again, dear bookshop of old;

Now on your shelf,

I write.