Thursday, October 3, 2024

THE BOOKSHELVES





 Did Elanor succumb to Ralph's temptations, or James felt heartbroken at Elanor's secret?

My drooping eyes bid them goodnight, eager to chat with them the next day

Lonely or moody, angry or happy, characters snuggled in bookshelf  

takeout time, engross me in their musky world, 

my dislike for Ralph 

heightened respect for James chews each word. 


 Relations with unknown travellers, some brief, some stretch

last month on Bosporus River, the pervious on German border 

my days or months soak in Naipaul's wet British weather

or chill in Desai's Darjeeling with the old judge.

The lure of the printed pages, the authors stares

as I pass amidst chores

stacks of spirituality, suspense, memoirs fantasy, fiction 

in comfort of my living room, a bit of me arrested in some page

in novels read.

The comfort of their presence in shelves or in my hand

pleasure of their company, they do not judge me, nor leave my side. 

My house lifeless in their absence, 

shelves increase to nudge old ones and shift for new arrivals

old ones revisited to jog memory

some wink at the other, author in two places

favourites do emerge, yet none left out

conversation of lifetime

both committed hands held in matrimony forever.






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