There was smoke
without a candle. I had been moved.
My gold rings sit on the moon.
I don't claim my pain.
The immaculate crime. I have not
taken the call. The end waits at the door.
I got you easyunder
sacred tree. I am yet afraid of me.
The dry leaves carry the name of the tree.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: May 4th, 2021 20:44
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
Offline)
Comments1
'My gold rings sit on the moon.'
'I don't claim my pain.'
'The end waits at the door.'
'I got you easyunder'
'I am yet afraid of me.'
'The dry leaves, carry'..
that sublime artistry of poetic brevity, such a great read!
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.