The Book

It sits there, taunting me
What could it contain? Oh, what could it be?
Secrets kept within the pages
Discreetly passed down through the ages
Up until midnight devouring its words
Having you imagine things, like soaring like a bird
Or voyaging across raging waves
Exploring unknown, deep, dark caves
The smell of the paper, a comfort to you
On a rainy day, in front of a fire, when things may seem blue
Characters and people, you didn’t know you had to meet
Going through their adventures, not skipping a beat
You get new friends when you feel you have none
After a hard day, and all your work has been done
Of slaving endlessly away, press pause and then
Curl up with a portal, to take you away again
To the places you go, to the people you love
The real world is hard, but a book’s not so tough
So it sits there, taunting me
What could it contain? Oh, what could it be?