My parents were good parents, allowing me
To lay the foundations of my literary fixation
From an early age when they began to read to me
A castle’s spiral staircase built against the wall
With no handrails to prevent a fall
I have climbed dizzying
The height grown higher winding
Where I’m nearing the last tower
They may have not foreseen to where
I would read everything I tried to read
I wonder now how high a journey
They believe or dreamed they sent me on
Breathe the spinning of my head away
Eyes closed to steady me against falling
Which all my spare reading breadth might bear
Forever being another page to turn
Lanning Lee 