Fear of ars poetica
overtakes the unwritten
poem. An anguish will
gather the wild thoughts.
From autumn to
the spring, I took to you
like a scream at the sunset.
I didn't omit you
elliptically ever. The moon
was your watchman,
I tended to slip.
Take a walk with me―
like the shadow. Sometimes
I feel very lonely. Needed
an alter ego to share my angst.
The Zen has invaded my roots.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: November 30th, 2020 21:17
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
Offline)
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