A Writer’s Dilemma

Do you remember?
When one evening
In front of a saffron sky
being a little shy,
You asked me

“What else can you give me other than poems?”

Perplexed
I looked at you
then to the birds flying
between the cotton candies of rain,
Drinking water before it even fell
I tried hard but in vain,
I had no answer then.

Today I am again
in front of a saffron sky,
but welcoming the sun
rather than saying goodbye,
A bit tired by the night long
conversation with the moon
On how are you?
Where are you?
Why you went away? and all.

I am still trying to find the answer,
of that question in the evening,
till this morning.
As I write “Poems are my life”
on a paper, I think.
What else could I have given you?