Borrowed from the future is time unspent
Even though knowing it, it's sequestered
Within your temples, escape's possible.
Dreams that fester, itching for disclosure,
Invade even the common of us all ;
Beyond reality, dreams you dream, real.
I was on that island too, shipwrecked,
With the rest of my family, book words,
"Swiss Family Robinson", was titled.
Sure as I'm here, in youth I lived that dream.
Vivid as today's sun rise, nature deep,
Dreams are smelt, felt, and captivate your mind.
Over and over again in each book
I lived every word as if it were true.
I became one with the author, his mind.
Broad, as the World, you become by reading.
By writing, though, you develop new Worlds,
Worlds you've created come alive in print.