Many years have gone by since first I did spy
A book on the shelves; ragged and torn.
I pulled it out slowly for it was quite heavy.
Little did I know a new love would be born.
I glanced through the pages at the shelves that day
I didn’t quite know what to think about it.
The premise was different; the characters strange;
I’d take it home if in my backpack it’d fit.
That night was a late one; I started the story
And it took all my mind to get through the text.
A tale about hobbits and wizards and men
And some sort of a Ring with a terrible hex.
My heart was soon captured by the tale of these nine
Who lived in this Middle Earth long ago.
I found it hard to believe I could get so involved —
It was like I was in the tale, too, though.
Now many years later — too many to tell —
I still get the urge every first of the year
To get out my own copy of that same book
And feel that familiar sorrow, joy and fear.
For the tale of the Ring got into my blood
It’s something I no longer ponder.
For it’s true and it’s real and important enough
For me to make time to let my mind wander.
And over the years I’ve collected some things
To remember the young teen I was then.
Then I take out the statues and posters and such
And suddenly I feel that young again.
I then really feel that magic can start
In the pages of a book and come alive!
And for a while I am not here in my chair
And a surprisingly old woman of 45!
I’m a young girl again on a journey so dire
With a handsome man named Aragorn
With a backpack to carry and a song to sing
And an outlook as fresh as the morn!
So here’s to all the like-minded of you
Who come here to tell of your admiration.
I hope, like me you continue to love
the tale of these folk for the duration!