A poet’s thought


My rhyming sessions turning into attractions,
My bad situations turning into good solutions,
Everywhere I am told and I am seen,
But that's not the reality, that's only a dream.
Where all do scream,
Where all do blow,
When I do set my rhythmic word to flow,
Everyone do sleep but only I do glow,
It is only me who loves my poem,
Who wishes that in me every quality should draw,
But I know there would be a day,
When everyone except the tea cups,
Would bring my poems in the tray,
And for millions , oh sorry!
For billions my poem would be sold,
And then in my characters
And my steps I would be bold.
My poems would not be sold
less than the rate of gold
and throughout the nation
my words to be told.
I just dream to touch the sky,
With the wings of personality, I want to fly.
I am in haste, wanna not delay,
But this race is the marathon not the race of relay.

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