To read, to dream, perchance to write...

At age 9, I fell in love

with words and therefore books

never to fall out again

one bard was all it took;

from him my first love Romeo

then King Lear and Hamlet,

Kings Richard, Henry, and John

Othello and Macbeth;

A Midsummer’ Night’s Dream spawned

Puck, my most favorite sprite

though many of the comedies

to me were a delight;

the histories enthralled me

the tragedies made me cry

the comedies brought laughter

the sonnets evoked a sigh;

to read, to dream, perchance to write

he led me to the stage

my head filled with visions

of words upon a page.

At 19, I kept him close

but tested other waters

thus did I discover

a slew of other lovers:

Borges, Fuentes, Azorín

Bécquer, Marquez, Allende

Neruda and Unamuno

were some who came my way;

from them I gained much insight

of the lovelorn, the left behind,

philosophy, religion

the angst of all mankind;

I lost myself in “isms”

that led to too much woe

but opened my mind and heart

and helped my words to flow.

I am forever grateful

to those gifted weavers of words

for giving me worlds to wander

and inspiring me to make myself heard.