Poetry

Sitting in the chilling cold office,
Looking out of the glass window,
nothing else, i feel to do,
Other than stitch a lovable poem

No ideas coming to me,and
No wonder to make with my pen.

My heart is yearning, 
without any pause,
to give birth to a poem...

Where can i get a theme, 
where can i find the mood,
what can i write in the paper

I scribbled something and something
Scribbling something and something
Without even giving a thinking
what am i really writing...

Sitting in the chilling cold office,
Looking out of the glass window,
I really wonder on this thought
Is this really a poem!!!