When I will grow old and weak
And my pen starts to leak
The day my poetic personality will be dead
And all my poems are fade away
When all my punchlines will be lost
And my head remain an empty vessel
Unable to lull you with sweet rhymes
Will you
Will you still give me attention
Or will you opt for a better option

That one evening
When my hand will be heavy
Too heavy to pick a pen
And weave letters to bring out soothing rhythm
When my words will lose test
And hit your ears plain without flevour
Will you still do me a fevour
Or will you opt to test elsewhere
Just to feel the same test differently

When my tongue will be stuck
And I can’t recite to you
Your fevourite of my poems
Will you plead to me to recite them
Or will you lower your worth
And listen to other poets my maiden

That one morning
When my palms will be old and cold
Will you stick to the saying
That old is gold
Or will you look for warmer palms
To warm you up again
And ignite your almost sleeping spirit
Will you
Will you hold my cold palms tight
And let me feel the warmth
Which I was used to?

@Sebby_The Poet
All rights reserved


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s