When I ponder over life and death

Or contemplate adventure with bated breath

I can’t help but be drawn to a quiet nook

Where I can pour my heart into a beloved book

The literary world has always been my friend

It’s a relationship I know will never end

To me text is concrete

And will never go obsolete

Reading and writing bring me great bliss

And even now as I am writing this

I can’t help but think how perfect it’d be

To spend my days writing eternally

Editor, columnist, author, freelance

Any one of these would make me dance

With sheer joy if I held a position

Where words and ideas were my ammunition

Days spent reading and writing are days worth repeating

That and a smooth chai tea are all I’d ever be needing

For a job filled with pages of ink

Would be perfect, I think.