They say, poetry makes you imaginary
Far lost in words... disconnected
When they themselves began their lives
Singing rhymes, poems... twinkle twinkle li'l star
Sleeping to their gran's lullabies
Frolickin' in the farms...to the poetry of tall grasses
Dreaming of nature's poems...its soul rests within you
Growin' up with your beloved alongside
Writing letters to your love... replete with poetry so melancholy...
When thy love jilts you...you weave a song
A poem even gloomier
Then you become a parent, sing you not lullabies?
Yet now, you teach those poems to your offsprings...
And still say, "Poetry makes you imaginary"
When all you do is recite
Poems, when you worship
Poems, when you learn
Poems, when you sleep
Poems, when you dream
Poems, when you love
Poems, when you are born- the poem of a new life and soul
All afresh to recite a novel poem of existence
Such is the ephemeral nature of poems
Goes through your life
Clouds change shapes, plants wither
But poem goes on
It's not imaginary...all real
When they die, their obituary reads a poem
...we loved them but they are no more