I left a bookmark

I left a bookmark there,
on page number 102.
And few ages hence
resume, from where I left,
after dusting the book, page 102.
The pages bleadhed, print lighter.
The text unchanged, unlike the reader.

After ages, I picked up
from where I left.
But through these ages,
I picked me up from what people
left of me, when they left.

Who knew a bookmark
was meant to be the one constant,
while everything around changed?

Bookmarks, wallflowers, coffee cups.
what it takes to stay when the world doesn…!


Oh my god, such a beautiful illustration of emotions! Love it! :heart_eyes:


beautifully penned…

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(post deleted by author)

Thankyou so much :heart:

Thankyou so much sir :heart:

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