Font Color=darkvioletthe Book Poem by Jane Meyer

I said, “No.”
I won’t read the book.
She said, “OK” and left,
without another look.

I was expecting a consequence,
I didn’t think it’d be that easy.
That’s when I heard a noise,
a noise that made me queasy.

I heard her enter the garage.
Then something made a thud.
I knew she’d thrown something away,
and my first thought was, “Oh crud.”

Then, “I wonder what she took.
What is it I must pay?
My computer? My book? My journal?
What did she throw away? ”

I thought about crying,
but then I saw the truth:
It doesn’t matter what she does.
She won’t break this rebellious youth!

‘Cause those things are all material,
they don’t mean that much to me.
Well the poems on my computer,
but they’re saved on here, you see.

So I refused to read the book,
but I will not pay the price.
Because there’s nothing she can do,
to make be obey; be good and nice.