To
the quiet place that I retreat to internally.
Come,
construct my mental warehouse with me.
The
safest space a child can remember with either terror or joy.
Matilda's
favorite place.
Uncounted
universes and brutal truths.
Dazzling
words of invention and argument betwixt creations.
Eventually, my enjoyment couldn't come home with me anymore.
My
big day had come and went.
I
couldn't go back to the chair where I found quiet and focus
Looking
out and over the trees.
The
bench off in the distance,
Almost
out of sight.
My
peers laughing and having a match of hacky sack.
Lonely
but safe among the stacks and fluttering verses.
Mumbling
broken curses when your finger was punished
by
careless angles of how you handled.
I
say careful,
That
binding should be an incredible find, for your mind.
I
didn't fit in, so I ran within the doors of knowledge
that
encouraged that I explore what its walls were hiding.
Every
nook and cranny now filled with old friends I met later in the years.
One
by one I met them in yards and garages
To
spirit them off one at a time for no more than a dime.
My
room now becomes so full.
Of
the adventures of others,
Facts
that dispel the mysteries,
A
mighty struggle
of
the adult
is
still grasping that great place where I still recall,
where
it's so lovely in the fall.
It
was a place I could go and say,
"what's
on the end of my pen today?"
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