Untitled Book Poem

Born into change and tragedy.  
Forever seeking stability.  
Building so many castles on so much quicksand.  

Insecure in this ill-fitting body,  
Tree escapist 
People are hard and books don't lie.  
Or leave.  

So I climbed as far up as I could. 
Diving into the words.  
I followed the ice and snow to lands fantastical.  
Candy skies and talking trees. 
A fawn eager to please.  

A man who just wanted to go home.  
A detective solving the impossible.  
Fighting back with love.  
The It never stood a chance.  

Quantum unicorns and the Dashwoods  
Miranda and Prospero and Ferdinand.  
Treasure Island and the Black Arrow  
Curdie and the Goblins and cleansing rose fire.

I'd stay as long as I could.  
Until my mother started to call for me.  
A small flashlight joined the books as fall arrived. 
 
Books were safer than people.  
Than boys next door who wanted kisses.  
The girls who just wanted to play house on the playground. 
 
In rainy or snowy days, when I couldn't escape up the tree. 
There was the top of the fridge.  
Because no one ever looks all the way up 
And if you're quiet, no one will spot you for hours.  

If the lights in the kitchen ever got too much  
The linen closet's top shelf beckoned. 
Door closed and flashlight on.  
Cozy and dark and quiet.  

Books were less confusing than people.  
Even books that required a dictionary on hand.  
For all the grown up words I didn't know yet.  

Books gave you space and starships and magic rings.  
Books never made you feel stupid for not understanding.
They're great secret keepers, Books are.