Theme: Life

Breathing Dust

Do not stoke the desires tonight, 
my moon is away on the cusp of doubts. 
Count you must the needles in heart, of 
ifs and buts? A fragile truce was anathema 
to me. The nagging day lies ahead – 

of my failing gifts. Living was a whispering 
silence, no secrets had a spite for you. 
A fine drizzle of thoughts fills the lungs, 
mind cries for the space to arrange 
the corpses of dreams. 

The uncertainties take a heavy toll. 
A new voice precedes a wet moon, 
the sun was rising late today, living apart. 


More By  :  Satish Verma

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