Walking in sleep
you tiptoed as if gliding
on the cold water.
The forest weeps.
Burning and billowing
for the deathless mind.
No slogans. I will
wear the hijab of moon
to meet my lover.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: April 4th, 2024 20:04
- Category: Nature
- Views: 2
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.