One of my books
in a plastic jacket
contains a stain on the cover,
a burnt spot.
I was extremely annoyed
when my mama (maternal uncle),
who took it for a reading,
while returning it,
in an apologizing tone
confessed: so sorry,
I fell asleep
and it’s my cigarette’s doing.
Only a badly sketched smile
appeared on my face;
no words of wound
escaped from my injured heart thankfully.
It was once upon a time.
I was a college student then.
He is no more.
I sometimes place my hand
on that black shapeless mark
and feel his presence
and sigh.
Posted for Sumana’s Midweek Motif ~ Books @ Poets United
sumanar/lekha 
There’s a warm rush of feeling in this poem.. a peek into someone’s heart.
So poignantly written 🙂
Funny, when people leave, what is left. What irritated before, is cherished now.
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A beautiful write, Sumana! Funny how some people live their mark in our lives.
Oh this is so lovely, Sumana!
So beautifully recalled … a moment from the past now cherished.
A constant reminder–even of a relationship of love through books! Thank you for taking me on this insightful coming-of-age story.
A lovely memory, Sumana. And an act of forgiveness 🙂
This is so sweet – to remember your uncle via a stain on a book. It’s a lovely story.
Touchingly beautiful, Sumanadi…
An interesting perspective, Sumana. I have a feeling that the cigarette burn which was once an irritation now brings back memories that would not return to you if not for that burn. Feeling another’s presence in such a way is not a bad thing!
Inscriptions bring back the presence of the person as well. Nice !
This is straight from heart…beautiful!
I so love this!
A bane turned into a blessing!
It may not mean much to them but they don’t realize the sentimental value we place on such a book. Still, it helps us to understand people more!
Hank
I really hate smoking. My parent’s burned us with cigarettes because they wouldn’t put them down before picking us up. My brother and I to this day have never smoked.