I’d drown myself in fiction,
For the huddle of words enticed me,
The woven wreath of metaphors,
Often whisked me away from reality.
I’d seek a road through paragraphs,
I hitchhiked through the author’s plot,
Walking through the bridges of ballads,
I inked out all my memories.
Lost yet found amidst a jumble of 26 letters,
A cup of coffee, now a stereotype,
The stories in a book, my enamored love.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.