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