A poet

Is someone

Who, adds a new page

To the writing pad of loving hearts

Who, have undergone erotic lethargy

After seasons of disharmony and discord.


And the pages are

Painted in the colour of love

Wet with rains of urges to live

Longer than their span of life

Clad with cotton of passion

Warmer than the hugs of lost friends

Filled with naked emptiness of Soul

Fuller than the voids of conjugation

Orange with shyness of moonlit nights

Spent with lonely memoirs.