By Nitish Das
I feel like I am an open book,
Half unread, put aside.
Awaiting the gentle breeze, for it to one day,
Unflip all the pages away.
And then be restored again,
Back into the place where once i had lain.
That abandoned shelf, its forgotten nook.
Caring not of what to the world i look,
Without a thought you picked me from there,
Like a possibility in a million so rare.
But now, I wish to be picked never again,
And in the partitioned shadows endlessly hide.
To never again feel like an open book,
And to never again be put aside.
Even then, I know that,
From deep within will always arise, this desolate cry,
To be read once again by you, One who would always let me try,
To be a meaningful book, flipping each page with all the care.
I am deeply in love with that glitter in your eye,
Whenever you would read me with that ever familiar stare.
I wish that you were forever close by,
Dreaming of spending each day with you,
Being read under the lovely blue sky.
But half unread, put aside, I am left without a clue.
Laying open endlessly, I am lying here,
Wondering if again you’ll ever come by.
A boundless longing it is, to be read again by you,
Dear beloved reader of mine.