dried flowers poke their heads
out of the battered book spines
a discoloured petal stuck
in the dog-eared pages
to the right sits a sparkly 2” by 7”
a pun etched in typography
the bookmark has evolved
biting cold air of the winter night
slaps against the window sill
flirts with the cocoa mug
kisses the fluffy vanilla marshmallows
seeps through the blanket – until
the warmth of the words fights it
so long as she sits behind the spine
they can’t get her- neither zephyr nor gale
it’s a moon-wrapped night, she reads the words
words return the favour, without fail.
[Kritika Narula – @Kritika_n_books]
Image courtesy of Isabelle Ribe.
The rest of the stories in qmunicreate #11 can be found here.
qmunicatemagazine.com 