This poem was written based on the following prompts
He felt particularly cynical when it came to their love of books. They believed in the magic they read, that reality could be changed with the turn of a page, they were about to learn some harsh truths. Winter would soon be upon them, and if these girls believed that books would keep them warm, would feed them, would prevent illness from striking, they were in for a grave surprise.
Angrily he strode towards the pair, snatching the book from their hands, ignoring their protests as he hurried into the back room and hid the book, beneath the woollen fleece they would weave over the long winter to keep them warm. There would be no more reading, it was time to learn to survive.
Two days later he retreated into the back room, their compliance should have been pleasing, but the sadness in their eyes left him bereft. He missed their happy laughter, their bright eyes, their inquisitive smiles, and annoyed he pulled the book out.
Angrily he flicked the pages, but the scrawls on the pages meant nought, but as he was about to slam the book shut, he saw her. It was a picture featured a beautiful woman clothed in the greenness of spring dancing with a tall upright gentleman, and her smile enchanted him.
Girls, who is this?
He demanded belligerently, holding the book out at their curious look.
We do not know Uncle, but she is smiling at you.
Bah, you just want your book back.
He yelled, but as they scampered, he gazed down, his eyes widening, she was smiling for him.
Quickly he slammed the book shut.
Dreams fed no one, did his common-sense thought did little to dispel the warmth blossoming in the pit of his hungry stomach.
© NopeNotPam
nope, not pam 
He should have believed in the magic of reading. Lovely story Deb. Thanks for joining in
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Thanks Sadje, stories can help you survive
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Thanks Sadje, perhaps he learnt to
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You’re welcome my friend
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Anyone who hates books is a heel in my book…
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He didn’t hate it, he just thought surviving was more important. BTW I hear you don’t like being Called Charles, Chuckie
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Charles is too formal and Chuck is too informal. I stick with “Charlie”…
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Ok, I’m using Max then. It’s Max or Charles, sorry 😞
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Ah, maybe he should slow down and take a closer look! Ironically I just started a novella called How it Ends by Rachel Howzell Hall and the main character’s ex thinks she is as boring as a book…She is an author. Just strange how you wrote this on the same day I started it. Great story!
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Reblogged this on Stine Writing.
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Much appreciated
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Hopefully he gets a library card now
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Perhaps 🙂
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I’m interpreting this as he couldn’t read and as the woman in the picture was smiling at him, maybe he would now begin to learn and perhaps read to the girls. Nice story.
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That’s spot on, thanks 😊
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Thanks!
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Oh I feel so dumb now 😂. I thought the pretty lady piqued his interest.
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She probably did that as well 😊
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Maybe he should get an audiobook for them to listen to while they work. (sorry, that was a bit facetious)
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Maybe he should lighten up 😁
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👍🌞
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