Of the writers and the dancers...


They up their toes and frolic in the rhythm
I up my eyes and groove in the forest of letters

They swirl on their feet and jump high in the air
My eyes do that while grazing the leafs full of words

Their heart knows melodies
Mine knows the art to weave words that blend these melodies

They are graceful with their moves
We are the one with gracing moves

Their eyes light up when the music reaches their ears
Ours sparkle as a thought strikes through our heart

I write, they dance
I knit, they prance

They are sullen and so are we
There is hardly any difference in a dancer and me

 p.s: The poem is a blank verse.



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