Riddled with shocks, a
ripening moon, rises in
pain, like wingless bird.
In search of human―
nest, to get back to sanctuary
of tender embrace.
I imagine you
standing at half-open door,
creating a myth.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: February 13th, 2022 19:26
- Category: Nature
- Views: 20
Offline)
Comments1
'what else is imagination
to be used for
but those fantastical myth's
gifting us
an ounce of sweet, make-believe
abducting us
from reality's all-consuming, drear..'
(thanks for sharing, Guru
intriguing wording
'of human- nest
of tender embrace'
a lovely internal rhyme)
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