It happens often enough
that I sit,
sitting idle and thinking,
thinking about now and then,
thinking to what to do
and what to leave.

I usually end up deciding to do away with writing
and even worse to even read something written.
Then I always look back
to know if ever I was good in past?
Was it worth for what I paid in my time..
and I ever found ‘yes 'twas’

That’s how I did it all -
putting together the collected twigs, dried branches, leaves and pebble
Perhaps it doesn't look fancy from far,
but yet, it’s enough in to dwell.