To have written

Words are such a manifestation!
Painting thoughts on paper.
With such bold strokes of imagination,
I too have written away.

I once found a well of brooding,
And drank to my heart’s content.
Then thought, with pride deluding,
That I too had a lot to say.

But lo! I stumbled as I wrote for love,
On friendship, I fared no better.
And found even when push came to shove,
My thoughts, I couldn’t convey.

So I coaxed, cajoled and played with them
I let them take their time.
Then one day, like a long lost diadem,
One by one, they found their way.

Then with delight and whoops of joy,
I saw them taking form.
My old methods, now I don’t employ
Yet happily, I write every day.

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