Journey of a Book

I find myself alone
In a room full of books,
And I deem this peaceful place
My private little nook.

Each wall is fully covered
With shelves of tales to travel
Awaiting my mind so eager
To make the words unravel.

I pace the quiet room,
Unsure of where to start.
For each and every title
Could play an equal part.

I slowly close my eyes
As I reach out my hand.
I grab the book I choose
And to my feet I stand.

I find a quiet corner
In which to take a seat.
I open up the book
to embark upon this feat.

Minutes turn to hours
As I step into a place
So different from my own
That it bears a different face.

This escape from reality
Is just what I need.
It sinks into my bones
As the words start to bleed.

The dreams become visions
In this journey of lines.
The experience and knowledge
For which my mind pines.

The walls that surround me
Slowly start to fade.
An image is before me,
One that I myself create.