It will not happen
again, the eye contact
with swaying moon.
Smoke was rising
from heaps of dead leaves
from distant garden.
You become a past
in the hands of slaughterer.
Ethos plays game.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 28th, 2023 19:28
- Category: Nature
- Views: 3
Offline)
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