Book Poem by Georgina Ashton

Stuck In This Prison, With These Four Walls.
Looking round and round, no-one calls.
To see if I’m fine. Or to know if I’m ok. Just to see me, just to say
‘Hi How are you’ ‘Yeah I’m fine how bout yourself. ‘Ah well I went round to yours to put up that shelf’
With the thousands of books I read. There’s no need for me to go out. Just to sit quietly reading with no-one to shout... Out loud, or disturb me. When I’m getting into the story, of how the tree walks and talks. With the creatures and monsters who can speak like beavers, fish and stalks.