At the Book Fair


The masses moved slow
their eyes even more so
taking in the words within rectangles
The little one asked
why books are shaped like windows

We moved with the river
not bothering to keep pace with its flow
dragged in by amoebic,
alphabetic extensions
of emotions

Words numbering millions
reaching out from stalls on either side
trying to resonate
with the familiar within us
and the lure of the unknown
surreptitiously winking
from the table displays

A few stalls later
we succumbed
and a part of someone’s life was handed over
then another
and then two more

Happiness packed in plastic
we dragged ourselves home from the
magnetic waters
carrying our guests who will now
live with us
May they be gracious people!

©Reena Prasad

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