Me and my books

The books I read every night,
Once came to life upon my bed.

The Tagore collection hummed melodiously,
The Sherlock Holmes fidgeted restlessly,
And Tinkles jumped about enthusiastically.
The Kamala Das stories came to rest in my lap,
The PG Wodehouse wanted a ride on my back
And the Ruskin Bond beckoned me to play carrom.

My quiet room was suddenly cacophonic,
Leaving me baffled.

I picked up the Holmes and gave it some tobacco,
Lent my mp3 player to Tagore;
Rested Das on my teddy bear,
Gave Bond to my kitten;
Put Tinkle in the cage with my birds,
And laid Wodehouse on the swing.

Finally, they lost their energy
And allowed me to sift through them,
Agreeing to share their knowledge and pleasure, joys and sorrows.

I held them to my bosom and slept peacefully again.