Encored, I was ready
to get the gift of stones.
Light dims at the door.
Will stand, thinking. To
look back for the lost baggage.
Will see you again?
There were smudges
on the floor where the candle melts
making hole in palm.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: March 21st, 2022 20:14
- Category: Nature
- Views: 18
- Users favorite of this poem: L. B. Mek
Offline)
Comments1
Inspired, but I hesitate
silenced birds, levitate
their destinations, feel innate
Guru's musings, whisper
comfort's to glib, starkness
of reincarnation, ambitions
typing, I decimate distance
to cross, a Poet's etiquette shadows
to ethylate that essential, exchange
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