Unknowns write poems in a journal everyday.
they are poems of love.. mostly.
i read,re-read, recite, hum.. go back and forth, murmur,sing, take off, brood, reminisce with them.
everyday i stare out from the rider's seat in a bus
and that view of the glimmering sea looks like the window to a wall clock
and in it a box with me in a birdy cap, stuck to a spring.. waiting for the hour to tick.