we miss you they said
long lost courage forbade me
to say I missed them back
how to tell?
too scared to write back
i feel my efforts to express
are inadequate
now, void of sparks
which pushed me earlier
to get high with passion
does it make sense?
afraid to be questioned the same
what makes a good poetry?
rhymes? imageries? metaphors?
or a poet's tenderness?
i play their strings carelessly
when it became
about the 'perfect' art?
one day hesitatingly i disclosed
wanna write like Emily and William...
they kissed me and sang
better recite your own version
literature accepts everyone
every melody, every ballad
but no copy cats.
what if I'm forgotten
midst the parchment of history
after all this victory
'one day you will be'
like anybody who's
inevitably immortal
they never elaborated 'one day'
so patiently I stood
meanwhile scribbling
in an illusion to never stumble
on that
'one day'.