Sometimes I feel I can live in a book:
In mountains and meadows or in a nook.
I talk to the birds and insects and air,
I stare at people, but hardly do care;
For I see not the faces I behold,
But unseen places and stories untold.
When I lie down, looking up at the sky
Reaching for the stars is all that I try;
Trying to get hold of the rounded moon,
Flying off to the sun I wish I would soon!
Through books I can travel far and wide,
Not bothering about the thing I ride:
A horse, a unicorn, a pegasus,
A rocket, a plane or even a bus.
I meet small people in a land of awe,
And eat with’em everything fresh and raw …
Startled by the noise that drags me then back,
I wish if I’d stay some more on the rack!
MeharAli 