for the love of books. and boys.

{image credit}

if you met me

at ten, my knees were skinned
from racing fast and falling hard on skates.
i inhaled books like air,
hiding them in my desk and
reading in the bathroom by nightlight.
bridge to terabithia always made me cry hot tears.

at twenty, piles of books still
kept me company:  history now
and theology, too.  i danced late and
woke early to mix mochas and print papers.
i loved skinny boys who played guitar best.

at thirty(one), i share tales of
runaway bunnies and miss lina's ballerinas
to two tiny readers-to-be.
books longer than those are
strewn about the house, as
unfinished as the laundry.

my still-skinny love strums
songs that make short legs dance
and my heart burst.

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