The white ribbon
gives you an angle.
Moon will rise from that point.
The summer dwells
in your poppies.
I was walking with feet of clay.
My eyes will collect
your scarlet lips,
for a deathless painting.
There it was, the body in
velvet, lying under the shade.
Only moon was naked.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 12th, 2019 20:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
Offline)
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