The book of ancient

I had a book on my shelf
It bore the looks from the 90’s
Ragged, torn leather bound was its cover
It pretty much looked ancient 
Everyday my mother would clean it
Now and then i’d ask her 
How come she’d won it?
Silent replies never answered
My curiosity paced up with time
But she’d never let me have it
With all her might, she’d guard it 
Ages passed by, me watching it
With all her emotions she’d keep it

One fortunate day she called me
All my questions would be answered duly 
I sat in front 
With my ears wide open
And began the tale of ancient,
“On the day of November 16th
I guess it was 1990
First year after I got married
Your papa wrote me
Few lines on it”

With puzzled eyes I kept gazing
As tears rolled down her cheeks
She began saying,
“Your father was a brilliant man
Plenty of love songs for me he sang
Plenty of tunes for me he rang
This book as ragged as it may seem
Holds all its copies
All his memories
All thoughts from his dailies” 

Now on these word even I cried
Seeing me shed tears
She again went on with glare,
“Even though he is no more
What a gentleman was he she swore
Blushing on she says
What handsome was he at his age
On the night they first met
He gave it to me with a fret”

On those words her face got pale
I asked her, what was it that she wanted to share
With a pounding she went on,
“On a war your father left home
Days later came a tomb”
Words were lost as she said so
After that we both got speechless

There it was the tale of ancient
I never knew it was so precious
My mother valued more than anything
The book I had on my shelf
The book I had on my shelf


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