In the room, while I'm sitting,
Through the lines reading,
Thinking from my heart, then writing.
In my thoughts, what to write?
To find something bright,
But shouldn't it be right?
Sneaks inside then,
A breeze, Oh! My pen,
Presses on the sheets again.
A sudden fall of water's droplet,
Fills my mind's goblet,
And opens up then, my thinking closet.
Enter's then the moon's light,
The world seems to shine, a slight,
And takes my poetry a limitless flight.