Woman with a pen
She is a woman with a pen
she is a woman with a child
She carry her basket
with two little lands

Her task is to sell
the pen to write
the pen to note
All she want a money to vend

She work for years and years
but none shows a delight
Never give up on dreams
she remembered and start her life

And one day she opened her own shop
The day of rain filled her job
She work long for success
because she is a woman with a pen

Life of poets is existing from thoughts
They live in a world that seems no other

Poetry of love and sacrifice
through which we survive

Letting all the cultures
in the form of lustures

Lessons to read
legends to feel

Loneliness is there proud
from this we think out loud

The life of poets is precious
curious thoughts we speculate

I grown up with a wish
that seems with a fish

In a pond of lake,
where a beautifull flower split

Growing alone to its seeds
for flying and wishes to lean

Make a wish of it's own thought
this flower will make not

For it's own rethought
will make a wish of adore

You were untold from the circumstances
You were untold from your life

You were untold as apparent
but none can easily decide

Conjecture crimes of untold
supposition to your own

You were untold as you told
to the toddlers of disown

Sparkling days with full of memories
captured in eyes as sweet remedies

The best days are yet to come
the livelihood of personal income

But those days of love
will remain forever as a affection

They stretch in never ending conclusion
of which we prefer to culmination

There will be sign of goodbye
but no one say it until it's time

It was so dark
It was so sharp

Believing in sadness
crushing all lightness

Sometimes it thunder the ground
or shouts out loud

Wandering lonely as a cloud,
searching for a safe sound

What all is about ?
the sadness or dark shouts

The nightfall which captures
all way round to ground