Reading

The minutes seem to pass so slowly by
But every time I raise my head to look
They're racing past. I do not wonder why
I simply drop back down into my book
And let the minutes, hours, even days
Go by exactly as they wish to do.
To read is worth this strange temporal haze;
Besides, I'm stuck inside this book like glue.
I could not stop myself from reading here
If I smelled gas or fire in the air,
And since I wouldn't stop, I think it's clear
The time can go to hell, since I don't care.
I'll read until the book I have is done
And once it's finished, find another one.