A Thousand Fantasies

She lives to read anything writers give,

Books her weed and she reads to live;

Neck bent in a bow like author of the book,

She does it like how flame does to wood;

Newspaper or a magazine, a blog or an old classic,

Like a shot of adrenaline, makes her feel fantastic. 

Anything she can get, confined in her room;

Anytime she’s all set, satisfied in a quiet gloom;

Living a thousand lives, in quite a different world,

In most she thrives, and declines barter for gold;

She’d prefer a dream, of a lifetime in a fantasy,

For which she’d redeem, anything of value in reality.

Cheers!

Hammett