Sometimes I scribble,
in the midst of the drizzle,
sitting by the window wondering,
why words are so stubborn? so plundering?
can’t they just dance and make merry
and have some cake with lot of cherries
and settle in my paper somehow,
make me happy, a little endowed,
Alas ! I would wait anyhow,
Let me enjoy the drizzle.
Till allowed.

© Shashank Bhardwaj.