It was those epics
Which appeared in beautiful covers,
With enchanting paintings,
Filled with mystical tales
Of bygone eras,
Of gods and goddesses,
Of kings and queens,
Of victories and losses,
Of heroes and villains.

Silently I would watch her read,
Looking attentively at her expressions
As she absorbed those tales
In her little brain.
With each word engraved in the mind,
She craved to be a part of an epic too.
To be a heroine.
To be a queen.
To be known by all in the world.
And I?

Somewhere along those stories,
I too craved my own story,
A story I would complete
For I knew I was a part of an epic
Though I was aloof to its beginning.

Even when I was reading with her
The same old stories with variations,
Just for once, our wishes matched.
To find and live our own epic,
To experience magic,
To have our actions known by all,
And both of us voiced our wish
To the twinkling stars above.