A writer’s want

I want to write

about the blooming flowers
the chirping birds
sitting on the tree trunk high above

the mountains waiting to greet the sun
chilling under moon light
sleeping with ice cap on
having their own fun

the restless leaves on the empty roads
so dope for a human eye to roll and stroll

the empty iron bench under the street lamp
where people come close or get detached

these short stories mean a lot
read by the world in different language and words

the writers and poets have their own twists and turns
their minds play an imaginative churn

for its not easy for them to pen down
these true experiences
unless watched and analysed while sitting on those iron benches

┬ęKritika

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