How strange and ironic it is- all the words i long to Samar lost in words.

— Sanober Khan

How these words, wait to Dean the arms of all the poetry.yet to be written.

— Sanober Khan

How....will I ever truly depict you? You’re perfect, my writing isn’t.

— Sanober Khan

I am a baby, I am a child, I am the innocent wonder in my eyes I am a glimpse, I am a sign, of someone I can be, someone I might, I am not one, I am not two, but I am a million things entwined I am a piece, I am a slice, strung together by the yarns of time.

— Sanober Khan

I am always stalking you, my dear. With my thoughts my words.my breath.

— Sanober Khan

I am a tale, I am a book, written in different languages and styles I can’t be read, can’t be understood, neither by me nor the greatest of minds I am too big, I am too small, to be processed or seen by the naked eye am too dim, I am too bright, to appear in the shadows or the sunshine.

— Sanober Khan

I am either storm or a drought.in-between shave never been my thing.

— Sanober Khan

I am filled time and again with a heart-aching wonder when I think of the fire and frost of memories of the everlastingness of love the solace of family and the power of prayer.

— Sanober Khan

I am infinitely yearningbrimmingand overflowing in words discover it’s another way for met be in tears.

— Sanober Khan

I am permanentlytannedin the summer of poetry.

— Sanober Khan