#dmpoems

The string is plucked, The tone, determined. I start to play the rhythm. It's been like this For three, drawn-out years; Going through everyday With a heart of delight, amidst being reserved. _ _ _ You move to your own tempo Of illusory sound. _ _ _ I play the rhythm, You appreciate with a smile With insignias of meaning Imposed through your hands. I take the role of the musician With you as the conductor; Every wave, a sign of satisfaction. Every gesture, a language spoken. _ _ _ You don't need to doubt, For you shall be heard. I shall hear you out. Just give me the signs And we shall continue To be in this harmony. _ _ _ For in the silence, In your muteness, We shall still create our music.

Ink on paper, Nose buried in books, In front of the screen, Eyes getting weary. This routine Is what I adopted. Am busying and stressing myself, and being persistent For today With high hopes and no clear path To take and seize For tomorrow.

Yes, I'll be happy. Don't worry. Maybe I just need to time And some words to rhyme. I'll put on a smile, While worries are a pile. Really, I'm fine, Though there'll be tears, I opine. My happiness will stay. But I'll be hiding up The pain away.