Crack Of Dawn by Satish Verma SignUp
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Theme: Life Share This Page
Crack Of Dawn
by Satish Verma
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  The king 
made a fun of our poverty. 
Marble faced girls always thought, 
wearing black scarves – 
sweeping the floor of white mausoleum. 

You made a death 
a loving eternity. 
We die daily 
in the face of old shine. 

Who shoots a peacock 
on the tree? 
I mourn for the blue peace, 
let the clouds come. 

Who remains unhurt 
unpained, when the night calls? 
I seize a moon 
to enter the crack of dawn.
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December 07, 2011
More By: Satish Verma
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