Updated: Mar 29, 2021
Courtesy: My birthday gift from a few dear friends
Yesterday, while walking, I wrote some words in ink. Some were bitter, harsh Some rosy, lovely, pink.
Some warm and touching, I poured from my heart. Some reckless, careless, Roughly scribbled, apart.
Some truth laden emotions, Carefully weaved together. Some shallow, unsettling, Bound with a tether.
I sprayed my raw ideas. Brewed them to unwind. I laid some soft musings Of a wandering mind.
I also sketched in ink the faces that I met. Wrote their names beneath In case, I forget.
Last night, then, I slept, Kept my pen aside. Sleep flushed my writings Left smudges behind.
Impressions of the nib Stayed deep and dark. Memories were tattered Left was just the mark.
Deformations imbued deeper inside me. Shaping the face in mirror That my eyes will see.