When I feel bluer than a blueberry,

Angrier than a hornet whose hive has been knocked over,

or as stretched out as a bowstring,

I go to the shelves with the records.

 

The records are of all sizes and colors,

They each take me to different worlds.

As I turned the sweet smelling pages, 

Words change to movies in my head.

 

The records tell me many stories,

stories other than my own,

they take me from the clouds in the sky,

to the Earth's core below.

 

They take me to worlds where technology regins,

or where dragons and fairies soar over the Earth.

They take me to the past, to the present, and to the future.

They take me to worlds far beyond the Earth's atmosphere.

 

When I am done with the records,

I feel no longer bluer than a blueberry

angrier than a hornet whose hive has been knocked over,

or as stretched out as a bowstring,

I feel a smile as I float back into my own story, and know it will all be ok.