Just Another Poem

Where is the home? What is Love.

Ever wondered how a simple poem

Or a piece of Art can make us smile

make us cry, make us static

in the ever flowing world?

Home is where I long to see you read my poems

with a cup of coffee by your side

And the doors all closed while the curtains dance

to the winds that seldom tease the flames

both outside and inside.

Love is when I cry as I write the poems

sitting all alone when the entire world is dreaming

giving wings to my words and sending them away to you

while you are probably dreaming, lost in your own silence

in your won crazy world!

Like the rain the melodies play inside my head

and the scrambled words finding their way home

I wonder if you can hear me right now

and smile at myself for the foolish child I am being now

and walk all the way to the secret place just to feel the scent unfound!

Lay there looking like a mad man like you said

looking into the skies only I can see

at the poems you painted on the faulty stars to curb our faults

why do I write this I wonder

Find me among these tall and dense woods

When I am lost playing hide and seek

Call out my true name...