FOR SADAN
You may just be in search for words,
But here I can't even locate the letters.
Trapped and hung on inverted commas,
Texts around me are all in fetters.
Lonely they yell, and swell as they please,
Some just gang up only to tease.
Few skip and jump through the tightened noose,
And the rest hang safely, always loose.
Texts get hijacked by cooked up stories,
Shaped and spiced up by many chefs.
Words and letters look pale and grave,
and crawl all over to work as slaves.
Wish you could search for those lost words,
And I could locate the letters in odds.
To weave and shape a good new text,
Put to the world, and work for the next.
Biswaroop
4th November, 2009
