Game of Ode

Nights are erratic, words come from nowhere.

New verse are being born, and heart is delighted.

Silence in darkness as cup of coffee in sunrise.

 My windows are open and I live on fourth floor.

So crickets can’t distract though owls are yet to awake.

Here I find myself by surrendering me to game of ode.

 

 

©ikbenmanisha25

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