Teary inks and wrinkled creases said it all,
The infinite love- never intended to meet.
In a library on a shelf so high,
Were two books resting side by side.
One was Chemistry, where reactions ignite,
And the other was physics, full of equations and spite.
Physics spoke of gravity, of motion and of light,
Of stars and of planets,
And humongous derivations of mechanics.
Chemistry, with elements, in a row,
Whispered the secrets of bonds and solutions flow.
Physics was enchanted by her evermore hues,
The pretty pink, green, brown and blues.
Chemistry adored the logic, the precise beat,
Newton’s laws or Einstein’s theories, in his every feat.
They stood there, every day, every minute, and every second,
Their love so pure.
Alas! They were like the two poles,
Who could never meet.
Physics spoke of forces, of unyielding laws so hard,
Chemistry fathomed change in it’s every state and yard.
Physics favoured constants, unchanged and still,
Chemistry liked chaos, of bubbling chemicals against it’s will.
Physics resembled motion and far fetched science,
Chemistry wanted atoms, it’s home and it’s vines.
Even a love so pure slowly faded away,
Their covers turning grey.
In the quiet of the library, they slowly drifted apart,
Their pages closed with a fracture in their heart.
– Manya Gupta