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Treasure
In the middle of the night,
a light comes from my room
as I lay against my pillow,
with a treasure in my hand.
It’s not gold or anything expensive,
but something that helps me escape reality.
If you listen carefully,
you can hear the rustle of the pages
as I lose myself to being sucked into a world
where only fantasy exists.
It’s a place where in the middle of the night,
I feel safe and, in a place, I call home.
It’s difficult to come back out to the place,
where I must face reality.
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this poem is about books, because i love to read.