A Waiting Poem
Written by Tailspinner
It's me, Grace.
Still waiting.
My brothers, Clarence and River, are playing Lego Star-Wars Wii in the background.
Still waiting.
They just don't get it.
Still waiting.
Waiting for what, you ask.
Waiting for read aloud.
Waiting to be taken away to the Inkworld,
where there are adventures waiting for me.
My brothers listen, but they don't feel it.
The magic.
Still waiting.
Papa's here with the big tractor.
My brothers are gone, and Lego Star-Wars is on pause for now.
It's sweltering in my blue house, in the heat of summer in Maine.
Still waiting.
Meggie is in the cave with the children.
I need to hear more, but I'm
still waiting.
For my father to read aloud in a voice that is Silvertongue's for me,
Where I can taste the character's words on my lips,
Feel the frost on the ground,
hear the hushed whispers of children and mothers alike.
Still waiting.
Nana and Papa will go soon, and then we'll eat dinner.
It has just occurred to me that I might not hear Inkdeath tonight,
because it's movie night monday.
So I'll have to wait a little longer.
It's me, Grace, still waiting.
Typing on the laptop at the table,
looking to pass the time.
Still waiting.
This story has received 6 comments
Leave a commentLove it. And I know how you feel. It’s like that with any new books I’m reading for me.
Wow! I really love this!
It's like looking into a mirror, sort of. I'm always thinking about (and dreaming about) going into a realm I've only read about. Like Fantastica in Neverending Story. If I could be a Silvertongue I'd probably read myself into a book instead of reading a character out. Like Winnie-the-Pooh for example. Mo said he didn't want to read Pooh out because it'd break the old bear's heart. I think the major problem would be not wanting to come back to this world. Lol. Can't wait to see your future poems! 
I agree. Good books always feel to me like they're waiting to be read, especially books like Cornelia Funke's. Reckless really did that to me.
I feel the same way you do. I'm reading Inkspell now, and sometimes I can feel the words on the page tugging at me, waiting to be read. I read aloud to my mom, but when she's not available, I can't read without her. I feel sad and like something's pulling at my chest, making it hard to breath. It's hard until I start reading the words on the page.
I connect to this poem so much! I have always loved the magic in stories and other mediums! I was the kid who tried to use magic even when I knew it wasn’t going to work. I love your poem!
This takes me back to my inkworld times, its wonderfully written, I love the meld of real world and inkworld.