Under your eyes
shadows, my poems curl up.
When do I call you?
From wires, tiny drops
of dew hang perilously.
Sun was going to kiss.
First I take you, then
I will cry for the last time.
Going to meet the gods.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: July 16th, 2019 19:27
- Category: Nature
- Views: 9
Offline)
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