Red library!

She missed her library back home
to be surrounded by books
Watching over her with love
They spoke to her ardently
About politics, about revolution
Sometimes she sunk into the voices
Of the brave chants for freedom
Of brave men and women
Of the suffrage, the fight
Tapping her toes and lips
To the rhythm of chants
Letting her fingers write and type
Kettle boiling behind the back ground
her own space with coffee brewing
her thoughts dancing in the background
to write, to type, to think, to exist
to make her things to do list
To make the calls that are pending
To check the bills, all the balance
The couch that let her snooze
Where she dreamt about her love
Making love to her in a library
On a bed of books with red cover
Where she would spill the last drop
Of blood of a love that died
It’s slow death in a bookish way
And then from absolute stillness
And silence of the painful death
Would emerge a story
A red story stained in blood
Of the revolutions yet to be
And the love that died

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