To Your Poetry Poem by Rites Ghosh

I'll go and fly
among your trees,
I 'll roam and glide
in fecund greeneries,
among swooning smells
and colours' drive-
round your thoughtful frame,
the timeless alive
I seek
when I lose my worth
in the hours bleak-

when poetry does not come for sure,
when between fingers time grows
aged and fool without cure-
my gaping stone sits to catch moss
with eyes ahead roving in the loss-

this bee cannot be the same
if he forgets why here he came;
his hours will lapse fast
as flowers die drooping
in the evening at last-

I fly for these honeyed words
I fly for the fill,
love's void in the midst of night
when the mighty pen is still-

through windows
of this stifled room,
I smell once in a brooding night
your hands bloom
the buds of thoughts-
and all they get wings
in perennial light shots
against fray of time,

for our all living hope
I return ever in your green head
for the foods I grope-