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I’m sitting at my computer, ready to type
Poised to explain, what’s with all the hype
My palms are sweaty and I am tense
Deadlines are looming, and I’m not making sense!
My head is hurting and my stomach is growling
I can just picture my bosses’ face scowling
Why does it matter, who cares if they read?
They’ll read if they want, and if they want they will read!
What do adults know about the pleasure of a book?
About the deliciousness of finding that perfect nook
When you wiggle your bottom into that perfect spot
You throw away your cares, your worries matter not
You open the page and can’t help but wonder
Will this be good, or will they use words like asunder!
You read the first line to make sure it won’t bore
Next thing you know, its page 60 and your bum is sore!
You shift and squirm and squiggle in your seat
Putting this book down is not an easy feat!
You can’t stop now, they are about to find the key
That will unlock the treasure and solve the mystery
Then your heart skips a beat as you turn over the page
The beast has escaped and he is in a dreadful rage
Your heart is pounding and your mouth has gone dry
Oh no, the hero has lost his powers to fly!
And just when you think you can’t take it any more
Your hear your name, and a furious knocking at the door
You gobble up the last sentence, and let out a sigh
You always pick the worst time, Mum, Why O Why!
You fold the page corner, and put the book down
You stomp down the stairs with a terrible frown
You should not interrupt, when I have my book in my nook
But, after all, what do adults know about the pleasures of a book?
I suppose how could they know, they can’t be blamed
The pleasures of a book are far too many to be named
All the same let’s keep it a secret between me and you?
Now with all this rambling, I am dying for the loo!
Aleya Jamel (written in my pink and blue pyjamas on a gloomy Wednesday morning)
