My mind can't be at rest.
Thinking is what I can do best.
I think a lot.
But, I don't try to stop, it's the feeling of zest.
My thoughts always bloat.
Sometimes, I see, there's a cot in a plot,
Covered by a moonless night,
Where hate and love tied through a knot.
There's also an autumn tree, I sight
And a nightingale on it glows golden bright,
Which sleeps in her nest.
It felt like sun glows in the night.
These thoughts came like a guest.
And my mind can't be at rest.
'cause thinking is what I can do best.
