Storybook (Part One)

Don't you know he likes to tell stories?
A desire of storytelling, he kept this dream in his heart,
that just seemed to big for the world.

He came to me in a dream of mine,
sitting in a gold chair with a seven on it's back.
"It seems your eyes will not shut," he said, concerned.
"Maybe I can help."

I raised a sleepy head up, and said, "How?"

He smiled, and grabbed a book, that,
in my world, seemed too big for either of us to carry.
The binding was gold, and the pages were old.
Flipping it to a page, he gasped,
finding something in his interest.
He almost lures me over, and says,

"This."

I was so confused...

"But, there is nothing here."

He giggled, and flipped through the book.

Every page was an empty canvas,
waiting for paint to take it's place,
and create the perfect bedtime story.

This book is yours, little one." he said to me.

"What will I use it for?" I ask him, wearily.

He just smiled and kept turning the pages.
I had no idea, what in this world,
I was waiting for.

So I said to him,
"What do I read from a book of empty pages?
What words take the face of these lonely sheets?
What paintings shall help these pages describe?
What endless boundaries these pages meet."

He took my hand, and held it;
brushing the back, and replied,
"I'm going to help you tell a bedtime story,
so that all sleepy eyes, worldwide,
will dream sweet dreams.
You can handle that, can't you?"

Me? Tell a story?
But wasn't it your dream to be a storyteller?

"Your feelings are confused."
he said.

"Yes." I agreed.

He giggled again, and walked over to me.
"Maybe when the book is complete, you will finally understand.
Come, now. We have work to do!"

©LJ

  21 August, 2012