Secret rendezvous under my covers years ago,
rushing home from school because I simply had to know
what I would read next on your spellbound pages.
Through you, I escaped life’s stifling cages.
Instead of friends, I had your words.
Instead of walking, I flew with birds
to the only place I felt myself.
The dusty, old bookshelf.
I’d run my fingers along your spine
to see what stories I could find.
I’d spent the night absorbed in you
no matter what homework was due.
First love, I miss you every day
and I am so sorry to say
that my wings have been clipped.
My courage to soar has been stripped.
Time and change have kept us apart
but I know in my heart
I will find my way back
to the birds, to the shelf
I want to read ravenously as I did in middle school. Books truly were my first love but I’ve lost my way to the calming bliss of taking the time to fall into a story. I need to find that place again.