Thursday, 28 July 2016

The stacks

The stacks of book beckoned.
They seemed to ooze love.
The pile looked lovelier where you stood,
They seemed to call for you,
The smell which was so enchanting,
The sight so mesmerizing,
You wanted it all.

You went near, and stared at them
Your hands grazed the covers.
You took one in your hand,
And looked at it with eagerness,
Which it eminated.

You wanted to have it all
No, but you cannot have it all
Let me decide for myself,
Just a few of it will suffice.
A few good ones.
She walked through the rows,
She gazed through the shelfs,
She made her way through the crowd,
She collected her valuables,
Little by little.
One by one,
Waiting in a line,
To make them hers.
It hurt to leave some behind,
Yes, it is the sad truth,
You can't have it all.
The heaviness didn't matter,
What mattered more was,
The joy it brought along,
The eternal happiness it promised.
You can't have it all.
Yet, you have it all.

No comments:

Post a Comment