The Delicate Dives

satishverma

You always speak 
from the eyes. 
My sun will send the clouds. 

No it isn't. You 
wanted to look away 
hiding the moons. 

Extra-virgin. No way. 
Tree was crying. 
Branches gone, no olives. 

This city will start 
a trade. Selling 
glass eyes of many shades.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: May 2nd, 2019 21:50
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 12
  • Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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