I never ever buy a brand new book
not that I don't like its looks
it may cost me just a couple of nuts
yet tattered ones I value the most

to me they deceives their tattered looks
with bookmarks and those folded ends
even stains of tears dried over years
as morbid remains of some emotion

I came across one with a missing page
which made me scratch my head no end,
till I read that page in blank mind space
with the lens of Mr. Sherlock Holmes

It's fun to read some gifting notes
with names, signs and date lines
takes me back down memory lane
when I curled up with Enid Blyton

Some have holes left by pests
who had found it best to feast
I looked through them
with my book worm eyes
for coffins or
holocaust survivors

while I sift through the pages
tattered over ages
more stories I seem to walk
of all those folks
who walked through the gates
and let their minds throb

it's hard to tag my vintage tribe
worth more than I can ever count
their makers now walk as ghosts
my best of friends past midnight

we walk the talk and talk the walk
sharing all their tricks of trade
before all of them return to their dens
after laying down my Specs to rest-