On Birthday

satishverma

A rose on your name shines,
like a mural painting.
You had wanted
a deathless dying.

Does it happen to everyone?

Living on water,
still abrasive?

When you walked on the nails,
was it corrosive, like
acid on face?

I am visiting the death room
to start a vigil, like
a hummingbird gone mute.

And the lovebirds will show
no more the open affections.

The moon will heal the poem.
Hearth will keep on throwing
the crackling blaze.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: December 6th, 2019 21:27
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 10
  • Users favorite of this poem: Laura🌻
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