Just weaving inch by inch,
on the days of unease..
Walking an extra mile,
when the road doesn't seem to end..
Words don't find me these days,
I search for them here and there,
In my old write-ups, in your poems,
In those half written drafts and
In those broken words left half spelled..
I don't want to hurry up these days,
I'm in search of the words that last,
Just like our old conversations,
leaving impressions on the heart..
I don't search for you or me anymore now,
I found peace in the "us" I have known...
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