i write sonnets on the papyrus and make tiny paper-gliders out of them.
they are carried into the unknown, inside that dark alley beyond which grows hope's tree.
your tree.
they are carried into the unknown, inside that dark alley beyond which grows hope's tree.
your tree.
i hum the soft melody.
your tune races,runs behind the flying wishes,blowing them onwards.
these wishes,my flying wishes.
my voice, i feel, is heard;
my writ,i know, read.
my writ,i know, read.
As long as you continue to write, winds will always guide travelers to the writers guild. And you'll be read.
ReplyDeletemy god...u are turning into a serious n asli waala poet with depth to drown for;-)
ReplyDeletebeautifully expressed...as always...
may the winds keep bringing u the inspiration:-)
amen! =)
ReplyDelete