A Poem to its Poet

I scanned my surroundings,

For some colour and surprise,

But only found your fountain pen

And your big, brown-black eyes.

I scurried on fresh paper,

And metallic keyboard keys,

I saw myself growing,

Evolving, with ease.

I tried to read the words,

Which composed my soul and being,

But I couldn’t understand,

What exactly I was seeing.

It was 3:00 am in the morning,

When you finally left me be,

And I basked in the glory,

Of the sounds I couldn’t see.

wordpressing 2



2 thoughts on “A Poem to its Poet

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