I love the stench of garbage, let alone to rot.
I adore the wafts of smoking on the streets.
And I enjoy some skunk smell, although most do not,
For the smells of ‘home’ are awful hard to beat.
These things might feel ugly, or brutes of smells to bear,
And odd enough I find I bear them not.
But consider these disgusting smells, for some do indeed care,
And feel at home with garbage left to rot.
What fun to be had, hopping from book to book,
To meet Peregrin, the fool of a Took,
Or perhaps hatch a dragon, or speak dragonese,
Adventures that come and go as you please.
I’d love to intrude on journeys bizarre,
To avoid His Eye, to travel afar,
But as the Black Riders come to kill us all,
I’d much prefer reading to taking the fall.
*If you didn’t get the references, my choices would be the journey in Lord of the Rings, the egg-choosing in Eregon, and learning Dragonese in How to Speak Dragonese.