Castles in the Air
She sits silently by the window,
The steam from her mug of tea fogging her glasses.
She runs her hand over her books reverently,
Without a care for the time that mischievously passes.
She flips open the treasure troves of words,
And, as she reads, merges into an entirely different world,
Which is a lot more than merely paper and ink,
Where love, hate, and everything in between is unfurled.
She becomes the princess who glides into the ballroom,
Waltzing with her prince to a mesmerising symphony.
She becomes an immortal, sifting aimlessly towards infinitude,
With only countless of her memories for company.
She becomes the warrior, dauntless in the face of battle,
Her eyes gleaming fiercely and sword forever at the ready.
She becomes the double agent, always misunderstood,
Yet, playing the roll of the dice just that flawlessly.
She is the painter, her works packed with emotion,
And then the detective, prowling around for mysteries.
She becomes the wolf, howling lovingly at the moon,
And the commoner, singing tunelessly in the alleys.
They all are a part of her, and she, a part of them.
She lives and she dies; with them, she loves and hates,
Sometimes, she bawls her eyes out,
Even as she goes on cheesy, romantic dates.
It is time now, though, since the climax has arrived,
Her breath catches as it stares her in the face,
Sighing softly, she shuts her books with certitude;
For it is reality that she must eventually chase.
Soumya | ©amberglow