Poem | Miserable Old Book

photo by Ylanite Koppens from pexels

My deep condolence for an old book on the shelf, in the corner of the room,
which is left dusty,
without a care or a lil touch

An old book plays its memories back,
remembering of when and who’s the last visitor that came to see,
Could it be two years ago, before all of the chaos? Or older than we’ve ever thought?”

An old book cries,
cause there’re no friends to talk to,
not even one,
Is everyone busy, so they don’t have time to talk to me? Or thing they always carry everywhere that makes them forget me?”

April 24th, 2021

*) this poem is written to commemorate World Book Day 2021 on April 23rd yesterday.