Something caught my eyes,
By the Road side,
Pile of books,
& a guy with lots of smokes,
Searching for something,
Mixture of snotty & polite face,
May be he was a writer - convicted for what he wrote !

Intemperate me,
Was just judging books from the cover pages,
& then I found one,
Some poems of an unknown poet,
The quotes on the covers were not sooo impressive,
Nor the editors who wrote them for him..

Like all previous ones,
I was to throw that back to the pile,
& suddenly a cold hand - shivering,
Touched me..

He was the writer standing - searching next to me,
Said humbly, " Son, may I have it please ? ,
Its the only reminder of my past - my identity - my emotions"..
"Best reward to a writer is how his reader holds his/her writes.. Emotions are not to be thrown - the only treatment they deserve is respect"