She climbed up the stairs to the attic,
And came to her favourite spot by the skylight.
She went up the makeshift steps of the bales of hay,
And sat at the little nook that she and her friend had made for nights such as these.
For nights such as these,
For sights such as these,
For those few times when the days felt too long,
And for those special days when they just wanted to laze around.
She had brought her usual companion along,
She always had it whenever she came to this spot.
It was a book- sometimes the same one, till she was done reading it cover to cover,
And then it was the next one that her sparkling eyes had picked to replace the former.
Her routine was the same- first she would peer through the skylight,
Then she would be frozen deep in thought,
Or deep in the clusters of stars that she would gaze up ahead,
And then she would pop open her book at the last page that she had read.
The last page that she had read, was never the first,
Because the bookworm that she was,
She could never come out of her treasured place,
Without first devouring a few pages of the newest tome that she had found.
The only thing that could stop her from diving into her book-
Was the sky with its ever changing beauty that always made her look.
Which was why this spot at the attic was her dearest site-
For it was a diving board for her eyes to swim into the sea of colours and stars –
Or the sea of words that she always carried to her nook.
