Back when I could only write my name,   

And read CAT, SAT, MAT, RAT,   

I loved stories,   

Stories I couldn’t find for myself.   

So I asked my best friend   

Who was the smartest girl in the class   

Because she could write the teacher’s name   

And tell time using the minute hand   

And read.   

She could read books that were so long   

Like Magic Tree House or Encyclopedia Brown,   

So I asked her to read to me.    

I made her read me The Hunchback of Notre Dame,   

A picture book,    

Probably because I thought Esmeralda looked pretty  

On the cover.   

And we sat on the brightly colored rug   

Among the screaming children  

In our own little world  

As she read and I looked at pictures   

Of things I barely understood,   

Of Notre Dame and hunchbacks and gypsies and priests   

but understanding there was more to be understood   

and it was then that I realized that   

I loved stories and that   

I wanted to discover them   

for myself.