Words write to me like long-lost friends,
ask me how I am, about my well-being.
Language – to my thought its voice lends.
I soon realize there’s no glory in fleeing.
From Chennai to Chicago in a fraction of a second;
equally quickly from barbaric to refined;
from the distant dreamworld to the class you attend
thought travels easily. It’s all in the mind.
When most of the country is fast asleep,
I dive into an ocean and aim to go deep
to find what makes me happy and what makes me weep
and express it in words which for years I can keep.
Knock at the door of creativity, open will it quick.
Out of those several pages, lessons many can you pick.
Other modes of amusement will lure you from time to time,
But remember my dear friend, reading is always prime.
Every night longs to be lit by the moon.
Every dawn wishes the sun arrives soon.
Light ameliorates places cursed to be dark
much like what’s done by a creative spark.
Posted by Wordmobi