My poems for Harry

I

When my life turns bad I escape to the magic of the fire place

Instead operating rooms

I let fantastical creatures and places transform my soul

Not doctors transform my heart

I put aside for an instant harsh reality's bathed in darkness

And journey to an author's salvation to the masses

Not the intensive care unit

Here I can have butter beer instead of breathing machines

I can ride broom sticks free and wonderful

Not gurneys and hospital beds

I can travel to castles full of life and joy

Not hospitals full of pain and horrors

Eat till I burst, in this world no one starves

Not be feed through my stomach

I can forget about being attacked by my heart

And the suffering of my family

And get attacked by wonderful creatures of lore

Not by phenomena and bed sores

Here I can truly love my friends and family

Awake this time far from the comas grip

And they will love me back

Like Harrys friends love him

Here I can be implanted with magical knowledge

Not a pacemaker

In this world all my scars are healed

Here I have to live with them

But when times for me are bad

Like times get bad for Harry

When all hope for us seems lost

Theres a world that we can dream of

Far from the voldermolts and bad hearts

A place that we both believe exists

A place called

Whimsy

A place called escapism

A place called fantastic

A place called Harry

A place called

Hope