Do not wade in
tears, in blood-deep wounds.
It was a black gold.
Moon was hauling
the night. There was no ending
of empty words. Silver
would not leap in
sun. I become poor in
the court of charity.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: January 20th, 2024 20:03
- Category: Nature
- Views: 1
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.