I had a poem but I let it go.
Into the great unknown where dead poems go.
Stillborn, not born at all, never ever to be.
Oh well, at least it was not me.
Next time, next time what will I do?
Write it down come rain or shine for you and me too.
That poem was to be called Curse, perhaps its better that it should never be.
But I don’t know, it could be worse, unwritten history.
20th July, 2018