Those unread books are getting damp & dirt,

I’ve lost the key of shelf,

Though once I’ll open the door somehow,

Maybe then the pages of words will be yellowish enough,

To be broken apart.

Long long phases have been passed,

Flipping the pages of the only book in my hand,

Familiar words’ osmosis filled the cells of my brain,

Pounder of the rustling pages beats in my vein,

Now the cellls get dry enough,so are the words,

And a vacant wind in silence,sounds like whetting a sword.

I sought salvation only in the small sweetest part,

And I inhale rusty smell,comes from the huge deserted part,

That dooms my owing execution.

Abhijeet Sarkar
Studying in Civil engineering.I write in my spare times.