Nothing left to write – Part 1

When i sat to write
ink was full,
paper was fresh,
but nothing to pen down,

everything appeared,
to have been written,
by somebody at some time,

the sun, moon and stars,
had been made to exercise,
so much,
they forgot their pose,

waves, shores and oceans,
never knew each other,
as words in poetry did,

lips, curls and curves,
wished they be sucked and careesed, if not then at least be harassed,
as many times and,
in as many ways,
as writers expressed

tears and pain,
made tears sad,
as they couldn’t find,
anymore salt to add…

2 thoughts on “Nothing left to write – Part 1

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