I can see someone at the door

there's someone knocking,
i can hear him,
i can feel someone's presence,
while, alone i learn my lessons.

i don't know who it is,
i just know one thing,
that every day he comes,
and a song he always hums.

"let's enjoy life,
it's a ride,
let's explore the world,
our inner talents let's not hide."

sounds a bit strange to me,
when, through the keyhole, i see,
a person with curly hair,
he is wearing black glares.

i don't know him,
i can't see him clearly at night,
in the dim moonlight.
but, the moment it's bright,
the sun is out,
and he is,
out of sight!

whenever i try to remember him,
his face comes in my mind,
but when i open the door,
in front of me, him i can't find.

don't know where he disappers,
don't know whether he has peers,
just seemed like a dream,
where, his voice, except for me, nobody hears.


Kritika Bhatia's picture

I love writing poetries and articles. I have made writing as a passion. I want to become a journalist in future. Some of my articles have got published in the Inbox section of Hindustan Times. I am looking forward to publishing my poetries and articles.

Last updated January 08, 2014