Friday, March 18, 2011


Flipping pages inhaling words
Like open arms and fluttering birds.
A clay pot, a blue sky. Paddy fields passing by.
Just touch each word, it comes to life
With laughter, anger, pleasure and strife
I travel with people living in books
Resting under trees, hidden in nooks
Dusty jacket and a frail spine
An old bulky volume groans a whine
A lean booklet peeps from the shelf
Casually asks ‘Do you need help?’
Histories, spaces, fantasies and facts
Stubborn pages, refuse to react
With greed I read, I plead I bleed
Snooze a chapter, catch back the speed
A patch of self they paint with colors
Worth more than a million dollars
I love faces hidden with books
Crafting a bond with familiar looks