From the spine of old books to each other’s tender hearts 

They gazed silently through the glossy pools molten hazel drops

The waves crashed on the conniving rocks, lapping them hungrily

Seagulls screeched loudly, fighting over the helpless fish

Pages of numerous books flipped gracefully, the breeze teasing

Yet they could hear each other thoughts, clear and loud 


They exchanged a smile, of affection and understanding  

Reaching out to the first book that came into their hands

The fingers brushed, shiver ran out the skin; another smile

It was but a familiar occurrence, delicate nevertheless

Settling on the soft vast Persian rug, speckled with books

The reading began, feet over each other, head nestled in lap


Those sparkling huge French windows kept them secluded

Carefully collecting and preserving their silent conversations

They communicated through their favourite quotes and scenarios

Found themselves searching for their beloved characters in each other

As the words became a part of their being, the pages dwindled

They lost each other in them, and found themselves in pristine realms


The lips read words written by others, revealed their passion through them

An immense wave of emotions overwhelmed them, drowned them

The red flutter of flame crackled lustily on the dry, burnt logs

Silver moon rippled through the pond, pining and longing

They were being imitated enviously by the raging fire and tranquil moon

Complimenting each other, warping the distance and illusions through words


The high walls and the grand ceiling that shielded them and their stories

Seemed like a fleeting moment of surreal fantasy, an untouched dream

It was an escape, their sanctuary, far away from the urban complexities

Where the silent glances and smiles spoke more than voluminous books

They were happy to lose themselves beneath those pages and words

Unwilling and shy to finish any chapter, see through any conclusions


They just immersed themselves, in the possibilities of the infinite,

Carefree, distant from the shackles of obscurity and triviality

Happily anonymous amongst the most popular and worshipped names

She in his shirt, his arms around her waist, leaving behind their scent

Between those crumpled pages, that would tell something more a story

It would boast and radiate the soul of their poignant story too.