From a forgotten writer
They say the days of fame are over for me,
I have grown old to the pen that was once my slave.
They say my verses are grey now,
my writing isn't living and awake anymore, as it used to be..
I see so many pseudo writer boys now..
all of them dazzle...dazzle to the flashes of the cameras.
The emotion to sign is resigned to an expensive Parker,
while the old fountain pens are forgotten...
I lived an era,
an era long enough to truly find readers.
Readers for whom literature doesn't end..
Readers for whom writers like us begin.
From a forgotten writer,
to a remembered world..
cheers to you,
cheers to you for abandoning my words,
for else, I would have never seen the evidence of the ones who truly remember.
Thank You, World.
You are too big, for me to exist.
And too small,
to engulf me.