Once, She Read a Book!

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I read a book once,

It was different than the one  

with a pen on paper;

I read a quarter,

I fell in love with the story and the maker;

A quarter raised my curiosity,

And I delved deeper,

I couldn’t put it down for a second,

Word by word, letter by letter,

It aroused a passion in me,

I wanted to explore it,

Understand each detail of the matter…

I read a book once,

It was different than the one  

with a pen on paper;

I reached midway,

My love grew for the story and the maker;

I thought I got it figured,

I could catch the jist and the trigger,

Desperately I turned the page,

Anticipating to encounter some lovely change,

But alas! I stared at the empty paper,

The story had evaporated like a vapor,

I grew bewildered, I wanted to reach the end,

I was so much in love with the story and the maker,

It only left me yearning, reading a story half penned…

I read a book once,

It was different than the one  

with a pen on paper…

About the poem:

She read a book once, a book without words. She read it; not through her eyes, but her heart. She read this book written all over his face. A book open for everyone to read and yet not accessible to many. But before, she could reach any conclusive end; something changed. The book she was reading was no more there. It left her longing, but it was gone. May be the book did not want to be read anymore. So it closed itself and she became one of those many who were denied access to this open book written all over his face.

A fiction poem for #Indispire Edition 99 Books you read in 2015 #BooksIReadIn2015