She was the reason I bothered with books in the first place,
And then became an addict.
She was the reason I tried my hand at writing,
And then fell in love with it.
She showed me a world of adventure –
Where castles hid treasures waiting to be discovered,
Princes’ were held hostage in the house-next-door,
An island could be owned by a girl and her dog,
Secret passages existed right under your nose.
She showed me a world of enchantment –
Where trees took you to magical lands,
Wishing chairs traveled far and wide,
Moonface, Silky, Saucepan Man and Dame Washalot
could be your friends,
And swish you away to the
Land of Take-What-You-Want,
Or the Land of Birthdays,
Right according to your wish.
She took me to exciting boarding schools,
To Malory Towers, St Clare’s and Whyteleaf school,
To midnight snacks and sneak-outs and circus mayhem,
Befriending artsy scatterbrains and brainy pranksters,
Who dabbled in stink pellets and invisible chalk.
She taught me life’s lessons,
Amidst nabbing smugglers,
And finding tunnels behind bookshelves,
And fairy folk inside your neighbour’s basket.
She made me believe that,
Toys could talk,
Trees could dance,
And chairs could grant my wishes.
Kidhood couldn’t have been more fun!
And it all I owe to her.