To my writer friends

As a library media assistant, I am humbled by the power of words. Every week, I am honored to listen as children uncover that power -- as they find those home run books, the ones that make them LOVE to read. It's truly a gift to see as they dash to the library to tell me how much they LOVED a book or to ask if I have the sequel.

I thought of my writer friends as I read this poem, and I thought of the magic of their words. My oldest daughter just read a novel that one of my BFFs wrote nearly 14 years ago. Emma was blown away by it. So this one is for you, j...

What Happened to Your Book Today

Somewhere, a child laughed

on that page where you made a joke.

 

Somewhere, she wiped away a tear,

Just when you thought she might.

Somewhere, your book was passed

from one hand to another in a hallway

busy with clanging lockers,

with whispered words,

“You have got to read this.”

And a scribbled note:

O.M.G. SO good.

Give it back when ur done.

 

It’s looking a little more love-worn lately,

rougher around the edges than it did on release day.

There are dog eared pages and Gatorade stains.

Someone smeared maple syrup on the cover

because she read all through breakfast.

Pages 125 and 126 are stuck fast with peanut butter

Because Chapter 10 was even more delicious

than lunch.

 

Somewhere, tiny hands held up your book

And a little voice begged, “Again!”

Somewhere, the answer came,

A grown-up sigh…and a smile…

And the fourteenth read-aloud of the morning.

That same book. Again.

Your book.

 

Somewhere, a kid who has never read a whole book on his own

(Really. Not even one.)

picked up yours and turned a page.

And then another.

And then one more.

And it was pretty cool, turns out.

He brought it back – huge smile on his face –

(and I mean huge)

And asked for another one.

And he read that, too.

 

Somewhere, a teenager who thought she was alone

Opened your pages and discovered she’s not.

And somewhere, somebody who thought about giving up

will keep on trying,
keep on hoping.

Because of that book you wrote.

Somewhere tonight – listen closely and you’ll hear–

A child will turn the last page of that book,

That book you wrote,

and sigh.

Can you hear it?

It’s the sound of a story being held close

Right before a young voice says,

“It feels like this was written just for me.”

And it was.

 

-- By Kate Messner

 

 

 

Time may pass, but your words still ring true, my friend.