There was no ending
of questions.
I grope, I miss.
Memory plays
tricks. I have come
afar in shrinking heights.
A face jumps
in mirror.
Cannot recognize me.
Aging eyes.
Moon. Fallen leaves,
wrinkled yellow, harsh winter.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 16th, 2019 20:22
- Category: Nature
- Views: 9
Offline)
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