In a pinch of light,
waiting it to happen―
becoming me.
You, my crush―
floundering in fever
of the moon.
I track you down
in the tears
of earthquake, when
snow was trembling.
Thin needles in eyes―,
I retrieve the―
history of fallen
god.
A survivor would
rise from the rubble
to reconstruct the shrine.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 30th, 2019 18:40
- Category: Nature
- Views: 33
- User favorite of this poem: Laura🌻.
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