Introversion Poem by Wani Rahil

Forlorn he stands, As if musing,
In the lap of solitude.
I could notice him percieve,
Oh, He must be an artist my love.
He observes, penchant and hushed,
Grasping the cosmos together.
Behold, he enthralled the nature,
Oh, he must be a lover then.
He hardly natters, but his writings do,
Ah, he has an innate world too.
If ever, one has a sneek-peek,
Its a soft heart in a cruel world.
A soul of a loner.
He may be tranquil and serene,
But he has a terrene inside.
He is an Introvert.