Clogged in dust

Waiting to burst


Bent at the edges

Demanded some poetic wages

And so then

At last

I filled I some ink

Raised the pen


Made a blink, …


Many thoughts buffered around

In so called

My thinking ground


I shifted the nib

Up and down

Making some writings

In her holy town


As my pen touched soft belly

She frowned majestically

Like a soft jelly,


Finally, I wrote something

On her naked soul

Good bad…?

Still looking for the poll


She was wrapped

In my writings from head to toe

Yet I left behind some space

Pending to doe….


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