If you want to know me

My days are written
in the darkest of ink;

And my nights are
the white spaces;

So, If you want to know me,
read in between the lines.

How can I write ?

You asked me to write a happy poem,

But how can I write?

In the mornings,
I am asleep,
Covered with the blankets of yesterdays’ work.

Afternoons,
I don’t belong to this world,
I belong to the world of masters,
Masters who chart the course for rivers.

And my evenings,
They set unnoticed,
With the work clouds blocking the light.

And in nights,
You know,
What happens,
Thoughts of work dance repeatedly on the arena of my heart.

And when I finally steal sometime to write,
Poems of sorrow effuse.

And now you tell me,
How can I write a happy poem?