In a bookstore not far away
Amidst rows of neatly stacked books for children
Jane who grew beetroot red because she couldn't decide
what to eat for dinner
And Julian the mouse with long whiskers,
I wait
A book in hand to kill time
I read about a phenomena called 'musicophilia'
Words glazed in sentences of sense
But tonight, distracted, I wait
A father and two children
The little girl, bold in her approach
The little boy, shy at first, follows his sister
They sit beside me at my vantage point
To watch the city beyond the glass
Move like a myriad of fast moving light lines
"Read me a book, dad"
Dad tries to hush them
But children - the concept of speaking in hushed tones
Is unnatural and unusual
"Read me a book, dad," she says again
As they sit beside me - a family,
United by the printed words of a stranger,
I wait
It's almost closing time
"Please make your purchase," says the announcer
"For we are about to close."
Stay open please, there's still hope today
Finally - a familiar scent and the click-clack of heels
on a wooden floor
Another moment of false hope
The clock on the tower outside the window signals 7
"Kindly leave the store," says my old friend, the announcer
Outside the window, the city moves
In four different directions at a busy intersection
Each life intertwined, intermingled in a common hope to survive
To thrive, to repeat the cycle
It's just another day at the bookstore
Still waiting...
Amidst rows of neatly stacked books for children
Jane who grew beetroot red because she couldn't decide
what to eat for dinner
And Julian the mouse with long whiskers,
I wait
A book in hand to kill time
I read about a phenomena called 'musicophilia'
Words glazed in sentences of sense
But tonight, distracted, I wait
A father and two children
The little girl, bold in her approach
The little boy, shy at first, follows his sister
They sit beside me at my vantage point
To watch the city beyond the glass
Move like a myriad of fast moving light lines
"Read me a book, dad"
Dad tries to hush them
But children - the concept of speaking in hushed tones
Is unnatural and unusual
"Read me a book, dad," she says again
As they sit beside me - a family,
United by the printed words of a stranger,
I wait
It's almost closing time
"Please make your purchase," says the announcer
"For we are about to close."
Stay open please, there's still hope today
Finally - a familiar scent and the click-clack of heels
on a wooden floor
Another moment of false hope
The clock on the tower outside the window signals 7
"Kindly leave the store," says my old friend, the announcer
Outside the window, the city moves
In four different directions at a busy intersection
Each life intertwined, intermingled in a common hope to survive
To thrive, to repeat the cycle
It's just another day at the bookstore
Still waiting...