For now, it's different

For now, it’s different

 I remember the first time I penned a verse

It was little different from a play of words

But as time has progressed, changed have my ways

And learnt have I, to express what the heart says

I know, how earlier, I used to pick words and choose,

Irrespective of the mood or blues,

But now, no longer does this happen,

Won have I, many hearts with the words’ weapon!

I may say all this and many things more,

But what lies at my heart’s core

Is the fond memory of the poet of yore,

Hopeful always, and happy therefore!

The poet, who cared not,

What anyone felt or thought,

Just continued to write,

Whose amateur style contained thoughts bright!

This poet, I regret, I no longer am,

My innocent ways….the world has destroyed them

And though part of the blame I own,

I wish I had called a stone a stone!

Small victories made me feel triumphant,

And happiness, I didn’t need to hunt

But these are just memories, I learn,

For now, it’s different!

12.17 (09) p.m.

Saturday

27/12/2003

SingingSoul