Stories of Reminisence

Brianna Parks

 

Row upon row they sit,
250 books on my shelves,
Awaiting their turn to be chosen--
Which will it be? What is the plot?

But on the bottom of that white shelf,
Tucked away in the corner,

Sits a small lonely book--
Unopened for many years,
Though never given away.

We all have that one book we never give away,
It started our love of reading from the youngest of ages,
When we still said goodnight to moons,
Drew with the purple crayon
And gave the mouse a cookie.

A young boy and his purple crayon,
Sailing oceans, building cities, eating pie,
The moon trailing close behind like a pet,
Simply on a journey to find his bedroom window.

 

This is today’s chosen today.

I curl up with it,

Reliving the memories and magic,

Forgetting the present,

Transforming into the little girl I once was.