“The quiet sense of something lost”
― Alfred Tennyson
I’m lost in the translation
wandering between the pages of a book
hiding between the folds
and sitting under a neatly folded
dog-eared page
waiting to be pulled
I’m surrounded by the pages
of my life
and left behind in the
stories untold
that old shattered spine
of that dusty book
mirrors my life
I fervently crave for that
intense fresh smell
we usually find
in the binds of book
so new
so naive
I crave for that smell
which lingers on my breath
and gushes the memories of life
I rushed to forget
I’m lost in the folds
and the missing pages
where my story took a break
and can be found
in those missing traces
That blotch of the ink
like a stain on my soul
hides the very essence of my life
devoured it whole
I’m lost in the translation
wandering between the pages
I…
Amazingly Beautifully penned Megha and beautiful picture 😍
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Thanks so much NIrant. This is for all the book lovers out there.
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Pleasure always 😉 🎀
Yessss loved it totally
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Thanks so much
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Amazing artistry. You weaved a beautiful story to perfection
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Thanks so much dear
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My pleasure always
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Each para so beautifully woven Megha. Read them a second time to soak in the beauty of each line better 💖
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Aww thanks so much Radhika. An ode to the book lovers I guess.
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wonderful images, I have always loved the smell of new books too
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Glad you said that. This poem is an ode to the book lovers.
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