Books from library call for special care

No scribble, no graffiti, no tear and wear

I know too well to commit such offence

But why can’t I fold the corners for reference


In this digital age books are stored in clouds

read anywhere,anytime,and may survive print and exist

But in substantial feel and pleasure I persist

In a heavenly library, so vacant and vast

I might be the first and the last to hold one fast

Some may never be visited in their lives

Like Emily Dickinson, tiny nuggets her poems are

No lover ever committed to her


Books are fragile and vulnerable,

Every time the pages are turned,corners folded

The  bones and tendons are broken

Centuries later, they crumble to pieces


But I am the only one who ever loved you

“No love, no harm,”is it true?

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