Making Of A Poem Poem by Ajit Das

No moon sailing through patches of clouds,
nor any flower bed flashing riot of colours,
or even a face blushing with hazel eyed glance;

only laptops and two souls seated before them,
on either side of the globe, typing on the screen,
exchanging, fine tuning the draft of a poem;

one version carrying with it shades of the night;
the other sparkling with the light of the day -
they blend in midair and a new poem is born.