The Book

10 Apr

I remember the first time

I opened the book

at an airport, waiting

to board a plane.

I don’t remember

where I was going.

It was a children’s book,

an international sensation

now in fifteen languages

or more, and as I have

with every craze before,

I shunned this book,

this series of books,

determined not to be swayed.

For years, I would not

be swayed.

But now I had

a long plane ride

ahead of me

with nothing to read

and there I was

and there it was

on the airport bookshelf,

my friend’s voice

in my head saying

this was different,

this was special,

this was a book

I would really, really,

really, really like.

This book was magic.

And it was.

Once I caught up

with everyone else,

I remember waiting

for the next book

and the next

to come out,

waiting and waiting,

buying two for our family

once they were released

just to keep the peace.

We bought two every time.

I remember the giddiness

of opening to the first page.

Now we have movies and legos

and shirts and dolls and video parodies

and I worry. I worry we’re losing the books.

The magic. The words.

So when my daughter, now ten,

came home yesterday

and told me about her

fight on the playground,

which upon deeper


turned out to be

a hot debate

between movies and books,

I was proud to hear that she,

though standing alone,

spoke up for the book

every time.

National Poetry Writing Month
30 poems in 30 days


Your Words

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: