Unread Poem

A poem is a poem

Even if anybody doesn’t read it

It’s my feelings 

Transformed through the pen 

On the paper 

In the form of shaped ink 

Which you call words 

These unread words 

Will remain dormant 

Just like seeds accidently sown

During a long famine 

Accidently someone reads it 

It brings happiness and joy 

Like the monsoon rain 

My words will sprout like seedling 

Further growing to plant 

Bearing colourful and fragrant flowers 

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35 thoughts on “Unread Poem

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