Wasted upon the young is callow youth
I should have known the kid would screw it up!
The trouble was I tried to do in truth
What ought to be drunk deep from fiction’s cup
Even a grey old fool like me can fly
Through stories unbound by the normal rules
How joyfully I gravity defy
Or weave dark spells, or fight in ruthless duels
If what it would be like I do not know
I read, and make it from another’s words;
I feel my nest of worlds steadily grow
I warm text eggs until they unleash birds
If what I want I cannot in books find
I write myself, and soar through my own mind
About the Creator
D. J. Reddall
I write because my time is limited and my imagination is not.
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.