Words can get sleepless too,
when you’re singing lullaby for them
in your heart, and keeping a close lipped smile.
The pages are open across the table,
the sentiments are as fluid as the gel ink
from the supermarket. They all wait for the
right moment, the moment when the poet
sleeps and the pen works alone in silent moonlight.
I love this!
Thank you so much! 🙂
Beautiful.
Thank you so much, Indira. 🙂
Elegant and flowy!
Thank you so much, Ree. 🙂