What's a child if when you say, "Don't disturb. I have an important work to do", it actually doesn't.

I am not a poet

I am not a poet
Yet I wish to write.
Of thoughts there is no dearth
But I have no words worth.

Of anger, of fear, of joy, of hope
Of falling leaves, of blooming trees
Of the rising sun and his amazing run
I wish to write.
Alas, I am not a poet.

Arrested the whole day,
For fear of the sun
Or rested for the night's party
With the beautiful full moon,
When Nature said "now you go",
The chill winter evening breeze
Let go of all bounds.
It roamed streets with hushing sounds,
Probably singing its own song
Greeting trees all along.

She knocked my door, I opened it.
She touched me, I shivered.
I shut the door, I felt warm.
I felt warm, I felt void.
I shivered yet I took the call.
I felt human, after all.

I wanted to pen this down, I did.
Ah then, this is a poem and I am a poet.
Or maybe, this is not one, I remain unknown.