Words

Nothing was beyond mockery, 

Still my words were,

Beautiful, calming and fruitful

Seeping down my nerves.

Not always did I know this,

To all my well understood fact 

Vanity, conceitedness and pride,

Were throttled down in a pact.

Parasols and beauty,

So much for this visage,

A walk of pride, dolent,

Had surely made my day.

My pretence felt real,

Didn't feel like feigning at all

The far felt complacency felt real,

So did my bonny flaws.

Impressionable, flustered,

So awfully flattered,

I led the way,

Easing all the foray.

Carriage rides and horses,

Offered me much ease,

Spellbound, I was,

At how they gave me peace.

Courage was negligible,

Proud I wasn't,

Vanity was fiction,

Intrepid so I wasn't.

A flushed expression,

All I could fathom,

Words for me,

Held no importance.

Distracted and silly,

Errant and erratic,

I thought of all this,

And I was accomplished.

Falling in love,

Deeply enmeshed,

Fetid of it,

Without any stress.

 For my love, I imagined, faces pulchritudous,

Never conjured up any words,

I imagind strength too,

Not their power to change us

A fools errand led me there,

Light movements echoing deep,

Teak and soft leather,

Was all there was indeed.

A little thing tumbled down, 

A little caress I gave,

It was a book, I reckon,

I gave it the frown,

I had for long saved.

The book, 

Became my absolute love,

A little strong bound article,

It's pages feathery soft.

A book,

That is what it was,

A simple thing,

Not much fancy,

But to me, priceless was its cost.

Naïve, I had considered readers,

So highly oblivious,

Enquelched dangerously much in words,

Distracted and delirious.

Always had I wondered,

How they made their refuge in words,

What was wrong with their own life,

Why with the world they were never concerned?

Only to know, 

Late as it may have been,

That the refuge is the cosiest world,

Where dreams could come true,

And words played along,

Where there were no sad shades of blue.

Once the pages had fluttered open,

I drowned in, 

Full and driven.

Couldn't look away,

And never again was I the same,

Changed, mature,

True wisdom held my way.

The fearless Jane Eyre,

The proud Tess,

The conceited Elizabeth,

The brooding Heath

All, settled into my head.

And indeed, I lived a thousand lives,

Before I was dead...

Now years hence,

When words rule me still,

My death bed,

Beneath me as it creeks,

I reflect back on my scenario again,

To see, how much these people taught me,

People, who didn't really exist.

Now all I can say,

Now who can make a fuss,

It's simple: one must be careful with these books,

For words have the power to change us...