Now it’s time to meet the Reader.

A different kind of speeder,

Short in height with bad posture

Her name never on a sport’s roster.

Black rim glasses outline her light brown eyes

Her ghostly pale skin and straight chestnut hair never lies

She speaks as quiet as a mouse.

Books line every inch of her house.

Her head always buried in a book

Listening to music as a hook,

Violin vibes as she reads

Melancholy music when death leads.

A high school senior, college-bound

With no time to mess around,

Yet there she remains, stuck in a book

Young adult fiction is quite the look.

Her friends call her the expert of love

Although she’s never dated as of

Now, but who isn’t a reader and expert on relations.

She only has fantasies of her own creations.

She calls herself a hopeless romantic,

But she doesn’t notice the boys who’d sail the Atlantic

For her, or the boy who gives her coffee with a smile

When she sits at her favorite spot awhile,

And her head continues to be buried in a novel

Where the main character has to grovel

And she wish she had a lover like this

Groveling to have his lover’s kiss.

Her hands move fast as she explains

To her friends, while they complains.

As the scent of new books and coffee fill her room,

They say books will be her doom.

But what should she care of others

Opinions, as her greatest critics are her mothers

Critics of writing, and nothing more

Earbuds in and songs pour

She has a bright future

With, in her hand, a suture

But for now bound to home, you see,

A reader who lives in another world, I agree.

Skye Spadaccia

Age 17, Grade 12

Northampton Area High School

Northampton Area School District