Deep footprints are not
visible. You will not say
anything else.
Night begins to fall
heavily. The wholeness, was
breaking the moon. I feel the
slaps of wind.
Throes of time, take revenge.
Was there any difference
between essence and substance?
The marrow will eat the bone.
Between dot and dashes
I have left long pauses to understand
unbroken lines.
Marigolds at the feet
of foetal stones unturned.
You can carry the legacy
of unsung sun, and small daisies.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: November 9th, 2020 21:29
- Category: Nature
- Views: 13
- Users favorite of this poem: A Boy With Roses
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