Rounded by walls so white
Alone is his plight
And he seldom tried a flight.

Until now...

He closed the book last.
Wonderly scanned 'round fast.

The walls are white;
The curtains colors vivid.

He neared a wall.
On it his fingers scroll.

He swam aside,
Reached a window side.

By a genetic pride,
The curtains he did divide.

Outside, there's a world:
He saw, as the curtains twirled.

Outside, there was a life -
The reality of books' alelife.

Stumbling wonders, he swam.
Reached a door closed a-jam.

By a genetic drive,
His hands did jive.

A door, it looks like,
Retrieved his brain, hiking dikes.

He looked around.
Near's a key, to the door, bound.

Yes, the thing named Key,
He had seen in a pic's glee.

Now, with this, what to do?
I have read, a turn I should do.

To a crevice small
Insert the key, he did recall.

How to insert it: his doubt.
Which's the head? The tail should out.

The round part, he heads.
The slim end in hands.

No, it ain't going in.
One more try; no space for a grin.

What to do, confused he is.
Go back, refer the books.

But, no book said,
How to open the door.
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Maybe, you came here expecting this update to be related with Open the Door. Hihiheee....

Okay, so this poem deals with a boy who is not at all into the real world outside him, but always inside books. He has a great amount of knowledge, but no experience at all. Hope you get things...

Dedication

Luna_jean_granger
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My awesome amazing reader...
A big member of our family