One day she’s a princess;

the next, a cunning detective.

At first he’s a noble knight,

soon to be a sorcerer in a distant land.


Tales of beauty, evil, love, envy

all woven into ink and paper.

Tapestries of majesty that are always growing,

That day by day becomes more lush.


Ancient cultures have marked down their legends,

Epics have celebrated their heroes.

Young children enchanted with fairies and demons,

stiff, wrinkled men recounting older times.


I love it all.

The mystery, the romance, the fantasy,

the escape from reality.

Each page holding new secrets,


There is no magic in our world,

but in our imaginations, our books,

We can slip away from reality,

And believe.

This poem is about: 


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