"The Reader of Words"

On the wings of printed words I fly,

To yesterday’s most magical of places,

So far and so fast only angels would know

Just how I flit through the pages: my sky.

Poetry too can bear me on high, and

Shakespeare, the master, knows how to knit wings.

Once, the world did not seem quite so vast

But Tolkien’s tales reopened my sky

And I knew that should I live to be

A thousand, I could never explore it all.

Still, I will fly toward the sun like Icarus

But my wings will never fall to ruin

And if you too have wings, fly with me

For I am the reader of words.