We meet a lot of people who are introverts and don’t interact much. And we start thinking what is wrong with them. Maybe something wrong or there is nothing wrong. They may be as they are.

Lonely Cloud

One winter day, sky’s bit clear

A lonely cloud, floats high up in air

In the vastness wide, of a sunlit sky

While clouds below, keep moving by

Time passes by, even sun moves a bit

The lonely cloud, keeps hanging still

An esteem low or is it some pain

Or pride and vanity has filled it’s brain

That keeps it hanging, away from the rest

While others keep crossing, the horizon