To answer this
question
Why I write or
What writing means to
me
You don’t ask flowers
Why they spread
fragrance
Knowing one day they
will wither
That’s what we poets
are doing
We are just leaving our
own dust
On these pages
Let them linger till they
can
Heart has been corroded
And it’s the ash which
I keep scattering or
maybe
Now I know how
Precious my own life
is
Let me share its gleam
Let me write poetry
,..
