Knots
Knots
Two fibers to join take some time,
Partly crossed, partly ajar.
It’s like a poem without a rhyme,
Knit closely but yet too far
For both are alike and nobody’s prime.
Junction pains at night
as it is treated like a dice,
for it goes to the left and then right,
just like cats run after mice
and the knot weakens with each bite.
Breaking are those knots,
which we had tied years ago.
Skimming through the blind spots,
we did crop all that we know.
For we feathered the stains which were just dots.
Sides are two but joint the same,
Stretching apart, it gains the strain.
For what is it, love or a game?
Which is the end which the main
as knots are nothing but just a name.
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