Playing with cinders
I will reach your home
to absorb light.
Give me a talisman
to win your heart―
to save the moons.
Mars becomes the poorest
god. You won't reach
there to erase the red doubts.
The visitor stumbles.
There was no path.
I wanted to hold your hand
for eternity.
Why to murder the
god's messengers?
Was not every star a guardian
of your beliefs?
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: April 15th, 2022 20:36
- Category: Nature
- Views: 13
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.