Waiting To Write The Poem Poem by Dawson Preethi

If I could write a poem
Like a child who writes in her six
Then I am a poet
Would be loved by all the rest

If I peep into my glorious past
I would have seen a glitter in my sight
A sight that trembles I, the old aged pyramid
Shaking once, twice and forever

If I were writing on a sheet
With black permanent ink; scrawls of thoughts
Would I be able to read it without light?
In the darkest age of this carbon body

My eyes were started to disappear (long ago)
From the place above my nose
Those tired small globes of jelly
Cavities were filled with gloomy ice

Now I can write the poem
Like the child who scrawls in her six
Without eyes, with enormous cold
Dark arena of my life, just now begun