The Old Bookshop

As I walk into the old bookshop

I travel to the past

like in a time machine,

Old book and flower.png

I see the old yellowish pages

not aromatic like the new ones

some folded , some covered well.

Each book that I hold, tries to tell me a story or maybe many ,

stories they have witnessed around them

When they were in someones hands, on a table or simply next to a pillow

Or when they were abandoned and left on the road next to the garbage.

They are like silent spectators,

But Can’t speak more than words written in them.

I try hard to find some scribble,

In the corner of the pages, at the starting or at the end.

Maybe on page number 43 or somewhere else.

Maybe I will find some old flower

Oh, No I can’t

because there is no scribble

there is no shorthand, no drawing

not even some coffee stains.

Still, I hold a book in the old bookshop

and think of the past

Was the reader in her twenties when she read

and is she now running out of space so gave up on the books


did she die?

Or Did she just move to another state?

Oh! this gives me goosebumps, heavy heart and teary eyes

I think about my books

wonder if I will also need to sell,

should I start Scribbling,

So the book could tell more than just printed words on them

I wonder what if I get a kindle?

will I ever get so attached?

I was lost in the thought

Suddenly I hear someone singing a song

I came out from the dream and from the old bookshop

I see a granny singing for her dinner

she is holding a bowl in her hand

trying to get some money before it gets dark.

Again I was lost in my imaginations in my thoughts

Is she out because she is old,

as the old books in the old bookstore.

Wrinkle on her face had stories

like the yellow pages in old book shop

her shaking hands had stories to tell.

Her eyes, her songs had stories

I couldn’t find the courage to ask

because again I was lost and emotional

I asked her for dinner,

But she needed to go home

She walked her way to home and I walked my way to home.

The old bookstore was not just an old bookstore.

(c) Pooja Mehta

Photo credit: Google Image

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