Ethnicity

satishverma

What was that in your
eyes, which still haunts me in
evening of life.

You will not say, I
will not know where the story of
wailing song bird ends.

The first dark cloud of
Monsoon, becomes messenger―
of the young drowned moon.

Let's go and collect
the gifts of parting kisses.
Deliverance stops.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: October 25th, 2019 22:10
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 36
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors




To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.