It was searing
attack of the untamed
blue butterflies.
Light kiss of flame.
Lingers on for centuries
in mind of the victim.
Not a fair game
of loneliness again.
Nobody meets mirror.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: January 26th, 2022 19:52
- Category: Nature
- Views: 22
Comments1
even straining, on our tippy toes
we invariably, tend to fall short...
ergo, all that intense introspection
yields, a warped sense of self
since we're always looking
at a distorted reflection, to begin with...
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.