Musings

To,
The many, many poems,
And stories
I wish to hear...
Where are you?

Did you fly away,
To the rains
Who sprang from rivers?
Are you bottled inside
Petite perfume pieces?
Are you awaiting
To be plucked,
From the bouquet of stars
Across the sky?

Stay there.

At the tip of my pen,
Awaits rejection.
There is no room
For you.
I cannot do to you,
What I did to them...

Them,
In their grand madness,
And their,
Severe mediocrity.
Them,
In their,
Composure, displeasure,
At home with me.
They who grew out,
Into me.

Stay away.

In the arms of the clouds,
Play.