An interesting morning, I toss, and I turn

I tear from the sheets for the pages I yearn

Into the mystic, my mind’s eye does flow

Rampant with rogues bent to foil the hero

Adventure abounds in the quietest of places

Descriptions left vague as I make up the faces

Others so keen a grand picture painted

Often too much, now my drawing is tainted

It all matters not; it is all well and good

For the pages I turn, are the pages I should

I revel in learning, mystery, and suspense

Occupying clock ticks until the script is past tense