As the Sunday sun settled
And paved the way to starlit sky
The stiffled ball of amber cried:
“Yo ye poor insolvent in flashing reality
Weren’t ye the dunce who dared to
Spectate the spectrum of eclipse without spectacles,
The sucker who sucked spontaneous poems
At creepy-crawly places, but what on poetry day?”

Alas, he disappeared as usual, convicting
And without hearing my humble plea.
High and dry I waited as my shadow too disappeared
With now no option but to pass
My ultimatum to his admiring associate~
“My lovely friends I beg forgiveness
As I was spastic in time & boy I loved
The whooshing as the fleeting event passed me by”.

About the poem, when I rolled the paper
And tried to send puffs, it bit my tongue;
So I kept it on my trembling lips,
But then blood stained on my shoes.
I couldn’t bear to swallow,
Nor did I dare to vomit this to any soul.
Yet being done and dusted ,
For second being numb felt esthetically good.

Though this lump I couldn’t get to moon,
So I wrote some abstract words as these,
Bid my time and begged forgiveness so one day
We shall drink luke warm tea in dreamscape like long lost friends. . .