Between the pages of my diary
when my pen feels dry,
you become the words.
flowing through me, dancing on my lips
like a wild river prancing before meeting the sea.
The river meanders through the wild forests,
rocky mountains carefree,
so also you are when I conceive you in my mind.
For hours, we look at each other, content and gratified
and when we feel all the empty spaces have been filled
we see a poem is born.


Prasupta Roy