My book my friend

Once long time ago,

When I was a wee little thing,

I saw my Mom,

Sit in the sunny verandah,

And hum and sing,

While reading a book.

I asked her,

"But why Mum

Does a book give you

Joy immense?"

She just smiled and said,

"You just wait and watch my dear,

You will also feel the same,

When you reach my age."

But, Oh!

Wasn't she wrong,

I knew much before,

The joy I felt,

While holding a book

While being happy with the happiness,

And feeling sad with the grief,

Of the characters within.

I never wanted any other friend,

Nor a lover apart from those

In the pages of my books,

Here started the love and camadarie

Between my book and me.

Which will travel long and wide.

I hope for a time

When my wee little thing will ask me,

The same as I did to me Mum,

"But why Mum

Does a book give you

Joy immense?"