My dear dusty old books,
I know,
we haven’t been talking for a while.
I know,
you have been thinking about me for a while.
But you know it,
this sorrow of separation is mutual,
Unending and immutable.
My dear dusty old books,
I know,
You have new tales to tell,
about life; about past, present and future.
I know,
You have vivid emotions to portray,
some of guilt, some of happiness and excitement
But you know it,
The forgiveness will be mutual.
Because we know ,
what we both have been through.
But I promise I would, lay a gentle kiss,
on the forehead of a newborn idea.
And heal the ache on your sorest spot.
Btw it is good
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