Portrait of a Bibliophile
Be it time of photosynthesis or lunar luminescence,
Diligently the boy pores over his book-
Sunshine or moonshine,
He is not arsine
To de-book himself.
For the book dear,
Has he divorced light-solar,
Burns he midnight electricity
To delve deep into the pages dear.
The mother super-saturated
With affection blind,
Feels so grateful to the boy kind
Who shoulders the heavyweight
Of her tall dreams.
Obstetrically, she delivered him once
But now she delivers each night
A glass of hot NZ on the boy’s table right.
The father cynical, burns bright,
‘Why are you connected, day and night?’
Father, I ‘like’ your ‘status’
Pray, let me ‘add’ you
I’m ‘inviting’ u, do ‘accept’ n ‘confirm’
Now r we ‘friends’.
As a ‘friend’ see me ‘wall to wall’
‘Post’ ur comment, won’t mind, at all.
What? ‘Friend’ with my own son?
What you keep doing on?
‘Now let me make my comment.’
Ok daddy, post ur comment.
‘Why do you change the collocation?’
Father, it’s the fb fashion.
‘Right. Fashion it is. You ‘add’ me, and I’m your ‘friend’,
You ‘like’ my ‘status’, ‘share it’ and ‘comment’,
It’s good semantic enrichment.
Son, dear, on your ‘wall’, I see,
You’re an untiring reader cum writer excellent
But you threaten Brahmi with the Roman Script,
I vehemently ‘dislike’ it.
Now, see I son, what you read all time on,
Your reading list is all Mark Juckerberg,
Seriously you love a book, that’s Facebook
There on your mother’s dream, you hook.
Now let me give the final ‘status’-
‘Fb, fb, burning bright,
Stay not connected day and night.
Let Rome in Tiber melt
Don’t ‘poke’ that girl svelt’.