By Palak Tyagi
With foggy glasses and a throbbing pulsation,
Curling beneath her blanket
As she yonderly revels in her sanctuary tonight
Her aspectabound visage becomes a canvas
Of the erratic sinking and brightening of her eyes
And of precipitous manoeuvring of her jaunty eyebrows
As she dives into the final chapter, leafing through which
When her last words arrive,
A tear rolls down her eye.
Tugging on her blanket on the cold wintry night
Latching onto her book tightly, holding it by the spine
She ingests the wooden chocolate scent
As she runs her frail soft fingers through the pages one last time,
Another tear rolls down her eye.
She sits there gaping at the cover for cover for a while
And this spell is broken when she takes notice of her mother.
All choked up, she looks at her and yelps — “Hi!”
Tugging on to her, she says, “You know I didn’t want it to end tonight”
And her mother ensconces her on her lap and says,
“Don’t worry, I’ll stop by the library to fetch some more for the fortnight”
Palak Tyagi is from New Delhi, pursuing her major in Economics from University of Delhi. A flamboyant personality and an avid admirer of beautiful cotton candy clouds and azure hues of sky, she’s an absolute bibliophile who likes to pen down her musings and has a love for learning different languages.
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