Lying alone at the table corner
Missing my pleasant touch
Thinking deep about the real loner
Me, yearning long to read much
Layered pages of my unread book
Dozing on the wistful table
Ages gone since I gave a look
Untouched as a saint noble
Wonder what story it has in store
Of mind, thoughts divine, elevated
Provocative, emotive, truths galore
Yet it lies at the corner unsatiated
Quiet, watching my eyes everyday
It trips into the nerve of my brain
I would roll my mind in it someday
Puzzled over these days of refrain
It pains to see it gathering dust
Neglect, a gross crime indeed
To resolve this guilt, I think I must
And see who has the graver need
A doubt creeping in myself
Would it be the book to adore
With lessons deep for the self
Or a pulp to forget as a bore
Each day passes by its side
Yet with no motive in my mind
To pick it up, sift pages inside
A desire in me, hard to find
Poet's Corner 
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