On a winter night,
I Sat down on a porch
holding a pen and a notebook
gazing constantly at the dark sky,
dreaming of a prince,
Suddenly my mind knocked,
"Are you ready with your thoughts"?
I smiled and shook my head,
and said " I didn't write my words" They wrote to me
I fell in love with poetry,
because I wasn't the one reading it, poetry was reading me
I put the pen down,
and thought for a second
I murmur to the shining star,
"Can you fulfill my wish"
Again, I took the pen,
and started to note down my emotion
Maybe I am addicted to poetry,
or maybe poetry has adopted me
when words can't describe my feelings,
I become hopeless, and my eyes show it in the form of tears
I would be glad if I could write with the help of my drop of tears,
I feel my fingers cry, my hand burns,
when I stop writing
The hands of the clock rotates,
similarly, I feel, my heart beats faster to form beautiful lines
Like a drug-addicted person, my soul is addicted to the world of poetry
Just like a smoker or a tea lover,
my heart and mind is also lost in the ocean of poetry
I feel I can't quench my thirst,
as my deep love for poetry is beyond imagination

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