I don’t take care of my books.
Well, that’s just what they say…
The outer edges of paperbacks turned up at the corners
Pages stained with whatever I was eating that day
Others watermarked by tears that got away from me
The spines strained from household items I threw in as bookmarks
The paper covers to hardbacks bearing scars of multiple tears
The signs of neglect, disrespect, irresponsibility for items you call yours
Well, that’s just what they see…
I see books whose pages have been turned time and time again
I see books that were too good, too exciting to be put down at the dinner table
So comforting to read in times of hardship when I was lachrymose
So engaging, the story brought on tears of sympathy
Lord knows it wasn’t raindrops that caused those stains
My books get the umbrella, not me
I see books that were begging me not to lose my page, itching for when I could turn the next
I see books that weren't forgotten when I was on the go, wherever the journey took me
Well, do you even care about yours?
'My books get the umbrella, not me' - Well said. Loved it. 'Well, do you even care about yours? ' - Yes, I too, do!
I like the reader's dedication to reading, his passion rather and that fact that he cannot put the book down.. you have read it over and over.. what do others know at all? ? loved this poem. Thanks.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My favourite line: My books get the umbrella, not me This poem really struck a chord with me - I love it!