READ! MIGHT BE DEAR
When she was new
None did pursue
Poems went,
unread
Still go
unread
But there are few
To her were true
Her poems then grew
To readers flew
Kept hope anew
Her nature, knew
She will not go
For she is so
Till she knows all
None will she call
She will soak in
And keep within
Will let it out
When self, well taught
A keen observer
A good preserver
Now days have come
She sings and hums
Unread are read
Old ones are wed
She, person same
Played no, new game
It is, time’s play
Some bade, to stay
But all, will go
Empty handed, so
Treat poems with care
Read! might be dear.
©sunita grover raina2022
21/05/22
India
