My Inventions

My invention carries grim events,
At last the night has observed a rest;
To me you sound like my invention,
Opening of pages, closing of books.
These families of words rest and relax
Like the inhalation of the air by the lungs.
My heart has twitched and feared
From the slight whispers and customs.
My invention is sweet for the eyes of the public,
My inventions improve by the day.
My inventions cause us to be substances
So pure and lovely, to the touch and taste,
But do not just smell or sniff,
Also care for the people who are inventing.

poem by Naveed Akram
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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