Time acts
in the orbit
of our mental landscape

lonely we watch
this world
which is more than books

Its pulsating rhythms
continue with the warmth of
real human touch

Time as an independent agent is possessed by minutes and hours
But we transform it into
Our collective dreams

and individual passions

- private and intense
unlike books

Bhartendu Second

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/books-18/