Scavenging the art
of life, you strip
to the bones …
The wild hunt for
the blue jay ends
in exile.
Time plays a cruel
game. You win, and are
served the crab apples.
Like Sylvia Plath―
you betray yourself,
but poems stop you.
A bling of your voice―
deflects the stardust.
A granite will become you.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 3rd, 2019 21:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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