When I awoke from a day break dream of
a crystal vase and cups, blue glazed,
then read that image on the fiftith page…
When I turned page one hundred four and a long dead
mosquito floated to the floor
and on page one hundred five my favorite character
spoke of a “buzzy biter” hunting him no more,
and my Father died two pages prior
to the heros death,
I braced myself before two hundred and eight,
paused, took a deep breath, for I
might discover Heaven on page two hundred eleven
Of course, what else could I do but,
read on.