No flowers bloomed, no castles rose,
No flags unfurled to ribboned pulls.
No horses ran on cardboard trails,
No princess peeked through paper veils.
I pitied all the adults then.
No book in hundred different shelves
Could make the story pop at them
The way my Chinese volumes did.

No wonder Dad was always mad
In envy of my 3D spread.
No wonder after scolding Mom
He blamed her for my childishness.
No wonder looking at my books
He shrugged and scoffed, “A pampered prince.”
No wonder he didn’t read to me
Not even once: not then, not since.

No wonder when I had to grow,
I pillaged drawers for blade and glue.
With careful cuts and careless tapes,
I made improvements to my books.
No flowers bloomed, no castles rose,
No flags unfurled to ribboned pulls.
No horses ran on cardboard trails,
No princess peeked through paper veils.