I brought a new book ,
And started treating it with care,
Read it page to page , cover to cover ,
While my old books kept lying on the floor.
Ah the smell of the new book attracted me a lot ,
The stories inside it , my attention caught ,
I started loving the book dearly,
Our relationship started growing clearly.
But there cried , my old dear books,
Read me , my pages are torn...
Please repair me, love me ,
Don't forget our old bond.
But I ignored them , though they helped me better ,
What rubbish books are they ,I thought with clutter.
And focused all my attention ,
On the New Book adventure.
But soon time passed, and the new book became old,
Now I can't enjoy it so threw it with attitude cold ,
It then went in the air and landed down ,
Near the pile of my old book's town.
I am bored . I have money. Let's buy One more book.
I started reading a new book again,
And hence repeated the game!
Now you might say this is a sad story , but look...
If you read it carefully , this poem is not about a book!
By Sahil Dhobale.
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Author:
TheQuotedDiary (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: June 5th, 2025 02:12
- Category: Reflection
- Views: 10
- Users favorite of this poem: Priya Tomar
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Comments2
How we to easily cast things aside because they are old, thinking the new thing on the block is better and often it is not, nicely written with good meaning, enjoyed the read
So True dear , thanks Poetic Licence mate🙏😊
You are very welcome
One often feels after reading a book that one has gained the pleasure that it offers and discard it but there are other types of books that are not just for pleasure but for daily use that must be kept and treated with respect. These are tools of life. And this is not speaking solely of books either. A good poem
True Man , Thanks sorenbarrett🙏😊
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