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Poem

Shadows are searching
My footprints nowhere
May be I am  dreaming 
The dream of somewhere.

Let's count with me till ten
The dream of a writer, 
Imagination of a pen
I know quite curious you are
Well, try to listen me please 
pretty good audience you are.

Ok Let's start with a simple name
Where regret ,without a single pain
Are we all still dreaming,
The dream of richy flame
Preaching for every single game
Still marathon has an end
But Laugh buddies 
We are same with new claim of blame

I know each one  has a collar white
Washed twice looking shiny bright
But what about the black spots
Where no one looks nor even stops
Are they are not the part of plain
Or they are simply the trash of rain
Oh sorry , I forgot
That Black spots still has a vain

Looking in to the dream 
Something really fascinates me
May be it's a rush or fear of morning 
A morning where no birds are chirping
Nor even a  single tree is still whirling 
The grandeur of doomy annoyed
Are we are building the development
Or the development building the void

Sitting on chair no one knows the fear
The sounds of death that no one can hear
Does the peace lost his identity or its name
Or the  blood flowing just for the sake of fame

But 

The clocked has clicked , your time is over
Please wake up the beautiful morning is still sober
Have a tea ,Dont worry for a  change
Alas , the writer is still dreaming till death ,waiting for change.

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