By Aanya Sharma
She walks around
Nose in a book
With two more
In her arm’s crook
If “What are you reading?”
Is what you ask
She’ll show you the title
And continue with her task
And if you ask
“What’s it about?”
You won’t have to be worried
About figuring anything out
Because she will explain it
In excruciating detail
You might beg her to stop
But it will be to no avail
If you see her crying
Or laughing like she’s mad
Know that it’s because
The book is far from bad
“How does this poetess know?”
You might think “Who is ‘she’?”
Well, I know because
I am that girl, ‘she’ is me!
By Aanya Sharma
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