Thrice a time I set my feet
Bereft of toes on silent street
No color found on where I walk
No use for sight; only for talk
A plainer world that's left unseen
Unless by ear, it scans the theme
Then mind unwraps the winding path
Of diction known, then fused with math
Arithmetic of basic kind
Plus basic knowledge of the rhyme
Talent is too strong a word
And bored, I find, is less absurd
Better out in text, than in
Venting out in verbal spin
Its sinews leaving in full view
A craft of art loved by the few.
No comments:
Post a Comment