Pen And Paper Poem by Surya Pratap Singh

What pen does upon the paper is a perpetual form of romance,
Have you ever written anything my love?
The pen creates grooves and ridges by its dance,
The paper in the end is a chest of treasure,

The paper is a tree,
The fruits are what we write upon it,
The paper always listened to me,
Or its the pen that made it delight,

The words that I knit upon it may fade away,
The ink may loose it's colour,
But grooves and ridges of her memories will forever stay,
Upon me and the pages together,

The paper can be rubbed and written upon again,
I should pursue it's character,
She must have Carried with her this pain,
Which hurts my pages and makes me smother.