Theme: Life

Beauty

by Satish Verma
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In the dust storm
a discarded moon
sat in my lap.

Then internal rhythm
crashed.
Amorphic I would not find the music

of words translated into a kiss.
Gold started weeping
in my hands.

The clouds will rest
after committing a sin,
of letting out the sun.

24-Sep-2010

More By  :  Satish Verma

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