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dondeestanlosjaguares
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I remember reading books about a cat and a mouse. I remember reading stories about a maid and her great pie. I remember giggling to short poems by a twistedly funny author. I remember smiling at the pictures of odd-looking creatures on page after page of rhyming words. I remember being able to laugh out loud to the man in the yellow hat, and his mischievious monkey. Timeless hours, and weary eyes. Not wanting to close the cover, because it meant time to sleep. I would have to go several hours of a long nite before I was able to awaken, on a bright, early morning, and be able to read once again. . .
Now I hardly pick up a book if it isn't to dust it off. But I have traded it for something else. Time has continued it's interminable march, and Change following right behind it. Now I no longer live to read about a man in the yellow hat with his curious, furry friend. No, I no longer see myself as a child, holding that book in my hand. Now I look in the mirror and see a future, with the love of my life holding my heart in her hand. I am no longer reading the book, I am creating my very own. . .
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020821
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