The butterflies of emotions would wander,
hovering upon her little brain;
How she longed to pen them down,
but there wasn't no time, all in vain..
She had all those thoughts,
about writing 'bout the books,
or the nature she was around,
ad how she felt bound,
sitting in one corner of the room for a whole long day,
with a boring book- its name, useless to say.
Of all those free people in gay,
she felt herself dancing her own way,
be proud about what she had to say,
yet, all she did was on her bed she lay...
with the book in her hand,
and her mind forcing to read..
and put away the weed
of the love for pens.
And though the pen was in her hand,
and though the thoughts merged to be penned,
she couldn't, with thousands of eyes gazing
at her in anticipation,
waiting for some prompts,
she was sure, they were struck in that queston.
She looked into the booklet provided-
Alas time was short and the paper long,
she at once realised those thoughts were wrong,
as she nodded,
realising it were just three hours,
and emptying the emotions that had hovered,
she began to write,
the answer to question no. 1,
in the question paper supplied.
