Underneath
Perhaps the words underneath, Our tongue is language of poetry , We carry about soul's flame. It's time to breathe out those words, In a flow of breathing oxygen for life. Perhaps the dream underneath, Our eyes is the desire of poetry, We carry about soul's flame. It's time to carve out that dream, In a flow of carving our life. Perhaps the wind underneath, Our skin is the season of poetry, We carry about soul's flame. It's a time to flaunt out in the wind, In a flow of dancing in storms of life. Pawana Tripathi