In the backyards in the fertile land of your garden
That I have to buy those
In whatever shapes and sizes you sell
But they are the products
I produce too
In a large scale
In the factory situated at the back of my mind
In many colors,
Shapes and sizes
With different fragrance and taste
May be they are different than the stuffs
You are habitually use to sniff
Whatever I make in my thought machine
And bake in my heart and mind
I never mean them to be eaten
Or to be used as you use oil
Take them like paintings
Read, listen and get delight
If they are too good keep them in shelf
Or hang them on wall
Composition of poems is like crafts
Of any other arts
There is nothing serious in them that
One has to believe everything.