She loved open books, because she was one.
She spoke like the letters of that novel,
which created a picture that felt like mine.
She looked like a picture of that color book
which had all the shades of emotions.
She never loved endings, so she always wrote new beginnings
She knew time is not hers, so she lived every moment whatever she got..
Her eyes searched people who loved open books and were ready to share..
Closed books scared her as they had given her scars,
they were the reasons of her nightmares and they took away seasons of stars.
But she had learned her ways, books helped.
She now choose the books to read, write and share.
The chapters that can be book marked and the chapters that can be skipped...
The chapters that can be closed to heart and the chapters that had to be torn apart...
The Chapters that meant adventure and the ones that meant just time-pass.
She is a happy reader now and a selective too.
She cries with emotions and laughs with imagination,
She jumps with curiosity and lives with life.