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Ode to Scripts
You smell like 1920’s Paris
With reminiscent smoke passing through;
The bright salty lake reflects the memories your pages bring.
“Midnight in Paris”, is what you remind me of
With Rachel McAdams once again playing the
Crazy, twisted fiancé of Owen Wilson.
You scream romance that provides a sultry, soulful experience.
Your black words appear bright in the mind,
But also sorrowful, fury filled, and ambiguous.
The black scribbles that magically form into structural
Miniature buildings, with each of you carrying your own weight.
The weight of a powerful President, a woeful bride, Oliver Twist.
In fact, twists are one of your specialities.
You electrify my finger as I touch your delicate beige page,
Waiting for the wonders you bring.
You bring to life what humans cannot conceive
Without it in front of them.
You take us on the longest journey,
Longer than any flight to Australia, the Polar Express,
The Quantum Realm, or Outer Space.
In fact, you carry the weight of time.
Whether it be Loki or Ant-Man,
You carry it all.
You carry buildings heavy, light, broken through all the storms
Coming your way.
I can hear the intense beating of the drums as
The protagonist dives into danger;
I can see the dancing of simple people who don’t want to pay Rent.
I can taste the sweet, sticky candy in Willy Wonka’s factory.
You emphasize feelings and give people purpose.
You inspire. You create. You thrive.
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