I always walk
a thinking moon. One day
I will ask him how to release
the destiny encased
in amber of your eyes.
One day you should
paint me blue, when the
sun sets on the lake for
a final dip.
My grey skin
melts in your hands to
interpret the viscosity of
trembling heart.
Don't give any
testimony against the unseen
murder of a golden deer
drinking water from
your cupped hands.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: October 28th, 2022 21:02
- Category: Nature
- Views: 3
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