For me the future will
not come. After the assassination no
pain was left. Blood had many debts to pay.
Not day all night, I was
knitting a sweater for the moon ,who
had been singing for me.
Flowering of the pangs explodes.
Creation of a new epic begins. After
my fingers always draw question marks.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: October 6th, 2021 20:21
- Category: Nature
- Views: 21
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.