Theme: Life

Homelessness

by Satish Verma
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Bending the forked-stick to find 
underground water? 
And immortality of thirst. 

Lips were fragile. There were 
no dewdrops on the upper lip. 
It tasted like a frozen moon. 

Clouds had sucked the childhood. 
No one picks up the fireflies 
from dark bushes. 

Tasered by stings, the moonlight 
hangs by the window. 
I watch you undressing. 

After the blizzard, a rocking chair 
waits. Hypothermia. The musical 
return of the mute did not take place.

18-Mar-2013

More By  :  Satish Verma

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