The sadness of seeing one's old books
Neglected on their shelves
The remembrance of the thrill of their acquisition
The joy and interest their reading once gave
The way they were once returned to
Again and again
And now alone destined to be one day thrown out
As if they meant nothing
The sadness of seeing one's old books
Of what was once so valued
Soon to be nothing at all
theme of the old book loosing its valuation the old stone decaying slowly by the drop of rain the old wedding golden ring loosing its shining the old....loosing its....!
Totally correct! Summarized to perfection Bringing a tear To sensitive hearts And eyes..
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Old books, like old friends, I keep in the quiet corners of my rooms, reminding me of the paths that have taken me from " there and then" ... to my " here and now" . The vast variety of titles echoing the phases of my life. You have done well to remind me of their value! A poem of good crafting!