The divination.
A broom―
becomes a wager.
The penury
begets the rags.
How much you need?
Sweep the
courtyard. Tonight,
moon sleeps here.
I have come,
a long way to
meet my lost friend.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 23rd, 2019 21:45
- Category: Nature
- Views: 28
Offline)
Comments1
interesting read 🙂
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