come my dear friend, sit beside me.
no it is not another poem am going to read to you
no it is not another poem of mine am going to ask you read
hush…listen to the blank of this night…to-night
last train had left the junction…
the plastic, paper scrapes flying in the air…
the banyan tree leaves rubbing each other
creating the melodious psithurism with other trees…and nocturnal noises…
hush…listen, now, the serene calm tone of pages
that am tearing from my diary…my manuscript…
no one read them is a lie…few read them…
few…promised reader fail the promise…
all are busy not I ’cause am just a poet…
just a friend…knocking…screaming…read…
read my poem…please…read…read…
but this should stop…all…all are trash…
you want to leave…you are angry at me…
am not going to hold back…you…
you shall better leave…if she…if you…want to read my poems
search the coffer…that I’ll take with me…
don’t burn me…bury me…with the manuscripts…with the diaries…
–xx–
Thoughts of Words 
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