My dissent grows. Moon
was still far away from my poems. A
savage atmosphere, You need celtic saint.
Will the dawn appear?
A dysplasia. The bird looks blind.
A blue jay? Will you bet on death?
Life has become an
Agave. Rosette of strong fleshy leaves.
Water inside no flowers bloom.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: September 14th, 2021 19:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 8
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.