Inner Poet

How many times I have;

Pulled water from ropes on pulleys

Dropped down the fruits from the tree

Pelted stones to stray dog-puppies

Stoned the silent lake water

Whenever I did;

Fetched water

Dropped down fruits

Chased away dogs

Created waves

And why now;

Moan of pulleys

Weep of a tree

Mercy of a mother

Cry of silence

I understand, I hear

Perhaps, the inner poet is awake.