Theme: Life


when I come back 
clad in wounded memories, 
one seed deep 
the pod would lie in the forest of hands, 
I will wake you up in between 
the kisses of moon. 

The hawthorn lamps – 
let me light the last unlit 
of empty night, for a farewell 
to a black rose, who had collected 
the unpraised thorns. 

The fugitive wind shuts the smart tears.


More By  :  Satish Verma

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