The poet

Jatin, the poet was sipping tea looking at the crowd passing by on the road. his firend, sitting beside him asked "how come you are not writing much now-a-days?"

Jatin's lips moved to one side in a smile that looked cynical and a sign that emitted a small sound and he said "My words are at danger of being mis- understood. and the mis-understood is at the danger of being circulated as the understanding." so, my friend, I fear putting into words what i think and know. Because the reader understands what he wants to. he fails to understand what i have written."