Poetry loves itself it seems
A window into the sub-conscious
of one's deepest fears & dreams
Pen to paper do meet
in a harmony of emotions bitter-sweet
String do I,words as I scramble
holding my minds tongue as it begins to babble
words from the heart, not from the soul
seem to stop and flow
Isn't it better to pen thoughts on paper
Then in a second it would be, later
so as I write I begin to savour
Emotions of mine of every flavour
Doesn't it seem a moment too late
To capture my feelings in their present state
Poetry freezes those feelings in time
What did feel I , when I wrote this line.....
