The Silent, Lonely Nights.

Thu, 07/25/2013 - 13:55 -- Eyeager


I remember


The silent, lonely nights

Where I sat, a small child,

With nothing but a book as a friend.


My stuffed toys would smile

and watch me read

while I would think of a new story for them to tell.


Sometimes, my tiny laugh would pierce the air;

a small, simple sound

brought about by Silverstein or Rodda.


And then I’d read a story,

                                                                Or two,

                                                                                                Or three.


Dragons would fly

and fight the daring hero;

the scenes danced in my lonely mind like a fire.


My toys, my only friends,

would pretend to be those heroes or villains

to cure my stinging loneliness.




Soon, the toys got tired

and asked to retire to the shelf,

so I sat alone once more.


But, the stories remained strong as ever,

lonely and crying out,

just like me.


So I wrote the stories out;

their world became mine,

their characters became my friends.


They fought for me,

laughed with me,

cried with me.


I still remember the lonely nights,

with a book as my only friend,

but now they remember with me.


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