I want to quit
the game of skulls
to die better.
A saddened butterfly
holds up the sun
on its frail wings.
On the trembling limbs
a hummingbird moth
hovers in air, to catch the moon.
Who was shy of
tiger lily for whisking
away your mirror?
I will wait for
you, till the hundred
moons come and go.
Like a decoy will
be used to trap
the tall necked peacock.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 21st, 2022 22:06
- Category: Nature
- Views: 6
Offline)
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