The bell on the door jingled
As three little heads rushed in the shop
“Not again” I thought, for these days children don’t have a fire to be kindled
What do they know about the fragrance of the crisp pages that makes our heart stop?
They don’t see the allure of the brown musty pages
That tells the tale of malicious demons and divine sages
They haven’t lost their senses to the old book fragrance,
The one that seduces a reader with promises of picturesque ambience
Walking between the shelves,
There’s a thought on which many have dwelled
Even when the promise of opulence and grandeur lured many out
Inhaling the magic that hung heavily in the air, I always remained devout
On the coldest day when snow covered every inch of ground,
I read the pages that made my eyes well up and felt warmth all around
Oh every time I venture in the shop and run my fingers about the pages which have captured many a memories
I have been looking out of the window and wondering what a beautiful day it is to be alive since centuries
I have flown to places unimaginable to them, to places where only I can go
I have friends who are invisible to them, for they are neither their friend nor foe
Do these kids realize what a beautiful world awaits them whatever they pick?
Each page, a new beginning ; Each word a portal, rocket fuel to her dreams made of stones and sticks
Do they realize that after a few books the ink printed on the pages would become like air?
With each letter, they would be reading as if gasping for breath with lungs that crackle and flare
I laughed  merrily when they run back to the counter with a few books in hand
Curiously I peek on what they deliberated and where did they land
Astonishingly the little girl held the same books that I once did
As my eyes met her eyes, I didn’t just see the blue eyes blinking rapidly but the old soul hidden beneath the lid
Bushy hair and big teeth, she seemed formidable talking rapidly to the ginger boy next to her
Her words  made many a memories stir