Daily Riyaaz

I used to think that poetry was not for me

Anannya convinced me otherwise

Now I wonder what would April be

Without this practice, that's not

as it once seemed, the setting down of words

It's the attending to, the being caught

by something seen, or hardly seen

that grammar can barely hold

Mist rising from the stream

of consciousness, 

the words the X

that marks the spot,

no more than that.