Between the lines

The distant star's light reaches us
(without any pomp)
Silently and solemnly
She would cry facing the wall.

Thunder and lightning
It was her chuckle
Then in a flash
All smiling, she was.

She comes to me
"I wrote a poem" she says
"It doesn't look like one" I say
(So broken it was ,on a crumpled paper)

She sniggers away
Leaving the paper with me and shouting
"He likes it ! He likes it!"

All day I wander
Among the broken lines
And unknown lanes
As the creases on the paper
Breathe life into it.
(Like the river routes carrying vitality )