I’m a bookworm, and indignant as well
When people rather nosily question
The point of loving books so much,
The cause of my obsession?
I used to answer, and explain to them
Why I long for those lovely stories; simple!
Yet, they must not understand,
For they recommend to me: A Kindle!
Oh yes, it has its good points, I’m sure
But I do hope you understand:
The difference between that and books
Are that of sea and land.
I’m tired of answering again and again
So I’ll jot it down in this poem
Why I love ‘em books so much
So that (no offence) you’d leave me alone.
Books, let me tell; each one is so unique!
They have that certain magic
It makes us feel we’re watching it all,
Be it happy or funny or tragic.
Oh, these memories, they really do
Seem to engrave themselves in our heart
How the characters and readers combine:
Makes us cherish each and every part.
We nod our heads with laughter
Or we sob and drop the tears
Or with delight and bated breath
As every part does so adheres.
They entwine themselves so,
Within our book-inspired dreams
We become a part of them!
Or it certainly seems!
I’d suggest, if you DON’T feel the same,
The open one; give it a try!
And experience it all yourself
As you laugh and giggle and cry.
Like if you can relate!
Tapasmi 