The Girl With The Book Poem by Soumi Mukhopadhyay

Every day, after my late night sleep,
I reach office little late than usual,
Every day when I pass that Coffee shop,
I see her.
With a big spectacle adjust in between big eyes,
Dressed in simple trouser and tee,
Drowned completely in the pages of black in white.

The crowd around her rushing around the clock.
She seems to be an epitome of knowledge and lost.
Among those hustle bustle, I feel peace standing next to her.
With a big fat tome and a tint of smile, she seems to be new every day.
Every day, at same hour, I see her beside the seats.
She steals some hours from the rush to be with her own perhaps!

With her, I also read the story day by day.
In a day or two the volume changes,
But the peace prevails.
Her story is mired in quotidian details.
With every occurrence, new character evolves and plays.

I see her.
I read her story.
Every day, at same hour, she also has becomea part of my story.
The girl with the book, I have named her.
In those morning stretches,
She gives me the power to conquer the whole day.
She, the girl with the book, an essence of tranquility, a way to retreat.