The Old Man’s Book

I spied it there upon the shelf,
A special treat just for myself.
And as I pried it from its place
A tiny smile crept on my face.

I felt its cover, worn and rough,
And hoped it held more wondrous stuff,
Like the one read just yesterday,
And moments ago put away.

I hobbled over towards my chair
And paused to take a breath of air.
Like a tortoise I made my way,
Not as fast as my younger days.

But I arrived there soon enough
And my old chair just sucked me up.
Its leather arms enfolded me
By the window so I could see.

I sat and breathed there for a bit,
Then took my book and opened it.
What adventure 'waits me today
To sweep me up, take me away.

Far from my arthritic bones
Away from my humble home.
To places fresh and new to me,
To sights I thought I would not see.

I took my book and began to read
Of foreign folks and long past deeds.
And ancient scripts on how 'to be,'
Which through the years are saved for me.

I was there at Rome's rise and fall,
And stood outside the Taj Mahal.
With the Buddha I spent a day,
And from Lau-tzu I learned The Way.

On and on through the afternoon,
I read the 'glyphs' in Egypt's tombs.
I met some queens, saw kingdoms vast,
And fought in wars far in the past.

And now my book is on my lap
I must have had a little nap.
My mind's still fresh with far off scenes,
But I've not left my chair, it seems.