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