Poem Poem by surbhi singh

A poem is....
The dead inside you
When touched by the feelings
Becomes alive
And floods
in form of words.

No one is born a poet....
But a poet is born
When one is in love....
Not the one
simple and plain
Which rises with sun
Grows in daylight
And fades before the night
But the One with those miserable eyelids
Heavy enough to fall and sleep
But feels helpless in front of
the fanciful eyes
Who demands just to dream
Of love and all possible ways of inseparableness
And In that slight sedative hours of selflessness
A lover wants nothing but the most beautiful words
to define the eyes, hair, skin of his beloved
Everything is same
But what rain does
On the barren land
Love does to the ordinary words
And forms a poem...
At this moment a poet is born...