When I have my fills, I pause and poise
O’er echoes I hear, my soul’s solo noise
And wonder every time, at the patch, I see
Sinning seed, of my tree, my poem writes me

Can’t split the two, because they are one
Poem of mine, my soul’s surrogate son
Where I begin, and it ends, tangle we
A tale, of lost friends, my poem writes me

Like a tide from sea, it bursts, from my heart
And make eternal love, two realms apart
To spill on that shard, pure bliss of spree
On a wall, ever-scarred, my poem writes me

“When they read, thy body, O my ode to life
Aah! Your naked splendor, my unloved wife
When you weigh my flair, and I size up thee”
In this love-hate affair, my poem writes me

© 2016 Vikas Chandra