It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last – the day when my tryst with words began, the day when I read my first book…
I sat on the floor with face in my hands,
Oblivious to my unruly strands,
As the five-year old me struggled to read,
It proved to be a troublesome deed.
My eyes had a dreamy look,
As though looking beyond the book,
And I was set to decipher the alphabetical formation,
With part logic, and part imagination.
Seeing my anguish, I was asked to wait,
As this book was doing much to frustrate.
But suddenly the words started taking shape,
The utter amazement made me gape!
Happiness gushed in with this revelation,
At this newfound, soothing sensation.
And with all this ecstasy that my heart bore,
I craved for more, to explore, to devour.
Now I look at that flashback in grey,
And smile at the memory of that day.
When I first read in the past,
It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last!