By Shobhit Kakad
Book
Right from childhood, we start to read a book.
Small or big, colorful or thick,
A pile of these always makes a heart-to-hook.
New or old, bought or sold,
Each one has an aroma of its own.
From sniffing the bright white or old gold pages,
I know, no one can hold.
History or Geo, Chemistry or Bio,
Anything you may ask to a Bot.
It fetches the info like a pinch of salt,
In amount only that you want.
But that one on the dusty shelf
Possesses a deep sea of knowledge in itself.
Bring it down to the desk,
Dig the eyes into it with zest.
It fetches the info like a ray of the sun,
In amount more than you could learn.
Winter or summer, dusk or dawn,
Let unfold any season or day around;
Take a book in hand, leap into an imaginary land,
Ecstacy in it, except you, I bet no one can understand.
Friends are good to have fun and food,
We grow, and somehow, apart for good,
In life's journey, we win, or sometimes we lose;
You cannot wish to have someone always be with you,
or someone be true to you,
But dear, you may always have a book beside you.
sk…