What does it mean to read a book?
There’s no right answer anymore.
My daughters know it’s not to look
For something that’s never been there,
Like “truths” in ugly ancient lore.
I once at bed time read “Scarface,”
The story of a grizzly bear —
At times it made little hearts race.
They still recall that book with love,
How the bear was far from human,
Though constant fear and hunger drove
It on from mountain to mountain.
They read books seeking for beauty,
Not from a false sense of duty.
My book of the first 200 of these sonnets is now available for purchase. Click here:
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