My little hands on yours
as you move them across the page.
Making sense of tiny symbols
as you take me to distant lands
I’ve never known.
Your soothing voice
carrying me like a boat
on the sea,
the whisper of the pages,
the wind in my hair,
the smell of lavender and citrus
turning to seaweed and mermaids.
The turned page now
the whipping of the sail on the mast.
My bed now a deserted Island
with treasures to explore.
Before I know it, its
“the end”
and I beg you for just
one more.