The Poet

There is nothing like it, when a poem and words are stuck in the middle of the air that we breathe. Like ice fog, it stays there- haunting you while you try to move around it and forget the words that stick to your skin. Wash it away, but it never happens. It whispers to you night and day- but it doesn't go away. A poets life is full of words that never leave our own hearts and tongues. At times, its all we think about as we choke and spit out letters and sentences to complete not just one book but many. Sigh. My life. My world. A poet, I am.