Books are like wondrous lovers,
As we lose ourselves with them.
They devour all of our precious time,
Even when it’s the Brother’s Grimm.
They take us to destinations
That we may not ever see,
To meet the inhabitants there,
As we move among them so silently.
We don’t realize that time is fleeing,
For we’re so under the author’s spell
That we don’t even see who’s beside us
As we meander through a delicious tale.
So if you want to see me good and mad,
And a hearty cursing you’ll be receiving,
I would suggest you not interrupt me, sir,
To inconsiderately ask what I am reading.
Written for the Weekend Writing prompt from Sammiscribbles. Prose or poem using the prompt Devour in 108 words exactly.