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Poems Can

Poems are flying within thy morning breeze
Becoming rhythm of heart poems are plying

Perhaps; I forget that-
I am not the alphabets of the poems
I am not the words of the poems
I am not the verses and rhymes of the poems

Here, in the pit of lushest pair lips
Thy letter infatuates me
Thy dancing dimension arrests me
Thy silent penning mood jails me

I forget-
The name of poems is not thy kisses
The name of poems is not my lust trace

Poems can fly
Poems can ply

Chattogram © Mahtab Bangalee
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