And, when the tears drip from the corner of my eyes,
I feel my poetry oozing from my heart.
Nobody but i can see them garnishing my pages,
One after another, like a consequence or a queue;
I see them dancing on my pain without any chauvinism,
I sit in my solitude chaining my soul to never touch
the window showcasing the irresistible beauty
exposed through the green, rejuvenating,
filtered through the roses,the creamy pink ones,
as bewitching as my dreams, & maybe i would hold them,prodding against my noses ,
only if i tried to break the webs of this room!
A new piece of artistry decorates my diary lying imprisoned,
An ointment germinates from my pen;
To cure a part of wounds in a versifying way.
I name it my ‘poetry’
Which originates oozing from my heart when the tears drip
From the corner of my eyes.