They call it a book
They call it a story
They call it pages
They call it words
But every now and again
They call it by name
An Escape
Not somewhere to go
But somewhere to leave
Not just a destination
But a haven
And once you've seen it
Once you've felt it
You've tasted it
Breathed it
You begin to long for it
You start to ache for it
And reality begins
To pale by comparison
And so when you return from it
You seek a way back to it
Realizing its only flaw
Lies in its impermanence
And you wish that the words
Wish that the pages
That the stories
The books
Could be forever bound
With you inside.