Would you still write poems

when the walls come crashing down

and walk beside me on the sidewalk

in the numbing, cold rains.


Someone who keeps me up

with words that make a difference

and goes on silent, long-drawn

bookshop dates and nostalgia trips.


Someone who scribbles in my

sketchbook his wiry handiwork

just to annoy the hell out of me

and then take me to poetry-slams.


Someone I can ponder with

about all the mysteries in our mind

Someone who says things

without worrying about time.


Someone I can talk art with

And not worry what he thinks 

about my opinion and 

Has one of his Own.


I see images of you in many,

but I settle down for none.

Because you’re somewhere out there,

looking for the one.



4 thoughts on “Someone”

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