Aren't words supposed to be a writer's best friend
Ready at their beck and call
Walking with each other
hand in hand ...
But then why do words suddenly abandon me
hiding behind , running free
I coax them to come back
To sit with me and help me write ...
To make themselves available
"You are my tools" I tell them
No, Scratch that .. You are my love
You help me create whats beautiful and ugly
Sometimes a poem, sometimes a story
You help me create people ...
you, my dear words, are the life in my people
But hardly do they listen ...
We sit all day ... the blank page and I
staring away
After sometime, when the emptiness starts winning ...
I force myself ... to force my words
But,they still peek and run around me
teasing like children
enjoying this little game
and I, like a tired mother,
finally sit down, apologizing to the page
promising the next time my words will behave
just then I feel a tug
a small word stands
giving me a shy little smile
slowly bringing along its other friends
I sit back and let them play
let them form their night and day
let them do their work through my fingers
I let my words create my world
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