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If I couldn’t read, I’d be lost indeed
For each day a hefty share
Of my hours awake I spend, no mistake,
On my couch or reading chair.
I will read the news and may, too, peruse
A subscription magazine
But a novel’s where, if it’s penned with care,
All life’s worries won’t intervene.
When I leave my lair, I do not despair
For I travel with what I need.
On a bus or train, I need not refrain;
With some skimming I may proceed.
If my eyesight failed, I would be derailed
For to listen, I couldn’t condone
‘Cause my soul is stirred by the written word,
Which is something I always have known.
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