Lost in a Book

Lost in the cluttered pages of his book,
He squints, giving the words a deeper look,
Tossing in a tasteless snack or a sip of tea,
He staggers pitiably, on the edge of reality,

Touch'd not by the shaking ground,
Nor by the loud noises around,
He lies, motionless on a colourless seat,
With each chapter, accomplishing a nameless feat,

Drunk with the heavy content in his arms,
He's aloof to the spurs upon his numb frame,
Moved not by the strongest nudge,
But moved so much by teary lines,

He dwells in the world portrayed,
Glamour speaking to him in the language of words,
He rejoices in a realm that's complete and full,
Tranquil, dancing in a joy inexplicable.