Unborn

On sun kissed wings
of a sultry summer noon,
frittering away
in unaccounted musings
like a leaf on wind;
Among timeworn pages
of handwritten notes…
There hides my unborn verse!

With shadowed reflections
by my distracted window;
At a composed moment
between lazy blinks;
In the juicy aftertaste
of a honeyed may mango…
There hides my unborn verse!

Disguised as lucid thoughts,
doused in a known aura,
She naively peeps
into my vacant mind ---

My unborn verse!

~ Somewhere in each beautiful realization a poem wishes to get woven in words… A memory, an image…or just a tempting thought. They all want to be a poem! I no longer wait for the pleasures of reading my finished verses but instead, enjoy the process of their creation ...and that’s exactly what gives me a high. I am at utmost peace with myself during the act of writing. Do I need any other meditation!