Theme: Life

Ancient Address

Black emptiness.
Death opens like a flower,
somebody is walking in.
You think of a soft punishment for becoming faithless.
It was becoming a way of life.
Unlimited agony of wait, something to happen.
Nothing is heard in the field.

No shots. No kill.
Your day was over.
Night descends like a puzzle.
Grey cornea on the white lens:
clouds are playing a game,
mist has a smoky smell.
A city sleeps at last.
A poem I will not read.
It was my ancient address.


More By  :  Satish Verma

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