My first words are forgotten
Just as the first step I took years ago
As the tire marks in the rear vision
fail to attract anymore
Block by block as I reconstruct
the castle of my memories
A whiff of fresh air from an old duct
Comes and caresses my cheeks
Gentle reminder of unpaid gratitude
As a creditor knocking at the door
for the want of minimal rectitude
they ask for a little more
Flying on the wings of dead words
The poem stays alive
only when I see the threads
I connect with the hidden life.
Nikunj Sharma
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/my-first-poem-4/
