Homebody, that is my true self. Less traveled, I may be.
Yet when a book is opened wide, a new world beckons me.
The pages where I feel their pain; I see acute distress.
I recognize I’m not alone. It helps me strong express.
The paper trail it leads me on expands each page that’s turned.
Visiting places, viewing sights of things I thought I’d learned.
Through books I’ve seen the castles where mighty ones did reign.
And read accounts of those whose lives were stenciled by the pain.
The manuscript of literature does more than spew forth word.
It brings description, feeling, and pathways to things I’ve not yet heard.