In grim moments,
quivering with fear,
separating the tears
from buried eyes.
How will you break up
your life from the
stanzaic epic?
The painting remains
incomplete. You don't want
to touch the colors.
Like snowflakes
I am creating a design
of your thoughts.
Sirius will not
rise today over the hill.
It was a rainy night.
There were dark
clouds, even at doors.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 21st, 2022 19:39
- Category: Nature
- Views: 15
Offline)
Comments1
brooding doorways, engulfed
in rampant ego's
we seek, footsteps as guide
and handy trappings, to lament
inking, wishes as truth's
wincing, as we read back
and far too - belatedly, realise
that night rain
was necessary, to wash away
our moon rivers
of regret..
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.