Friday, December 27, 2013
Go, little book,
out of the house and into the world,
carriage made of paper rolling toward town
bearing a single passenger
beyond the reach of this jittery pen
and far from the desk and the nosy gooseneck lamp.
it is time to decamp,
put on the jacket and venture outside,
time to be regarded by other eyes,
bound to be held in foreign hands.
so off you go, infants of the brain,
with a wave and some bits of fatherly advice:
stay out as late as you like,
don't bother to call or write,
and talk to as many strangers as you can.
~ Billy Collins
27 December, 2013