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Call me a Poet
Broken by miseries of life
I became nib of pen
In puzzles of night
i spill my pain over the lonely pages
People call me "a poet"
I find my sumptuous pillow
In bossom of silence
and these lovely gardens are my quilts
Life is as short as winter solstice
and art is evergreen leaf on the "tree of immortality"
I live in hearts as lyrics of love ballads
It is strenous to get actual gist of my verses
i intend to end up as a poem
Call me a poet
I am caravan of memories
@aamir khan
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