Xx Poem by Pradip Chattopadhyay

Xx will never write poetry
His senses are too occupied
With his surround's passing scenery
Holding them in gaze wide eyed!

Xx has no time to think and write
Letting so much meanwhile pass him
Not counting the sleeping hours of night
Eyes' plenty to fill him to brim!

Xx can't spend whiles typing away
While the sky turns her blue into red
Can't afford to waste an already short day
Counting words creating riddles in his head!

Xx is too busy to set his mind
On begetting inky wordy lusty poem
With nature calling him to see and find
The beauty of the morn in sun flame!