Procrastination

Defeating the strong urge
Of a post lunch,
Warm nap,
On a winter, Sunday afternoon,
I finally took up,
A long pending clean up job,
Of my disarrayed bookshelf,
A possession dearly prized.
The collection is good,
I am often smug,
I love showing off
To my not so well read friends.

It's going pretty good.
Top shelf for referrals,
Seldom used.
Next shelf, eye level,
Well worn, much read,
Favourite ones.
Should I mix up
Fiction and nons,
Poetry and prose?
Well why not,
This is not a public library,
Afterall.

Oh that book!
It's still there?
Where was it all these years?
A name written on it,
In a bold, matured scribble.
I had traded this with you,
For a precious album of the Beatles.
Or was it Pat Boone?
I flipped through it,
A smile, a sigh,
A teardrop even escaped.
I stared at the ceiling fan,
Drowned in a pile of old books,
And some frayed memories.

It's already evening,
I had promised to meet a friend.
I'll get this done,
Perhaps, another Sunday afternoon.
© 2009 Rituparna Das