You will change one
day, in rattling bones, trying
to make yourself whole.
Living in heart only
for transient love. Was it possible
to become immortal in poems?
One day I will meet
you outside the moon. Where
our embraces have gone?
A street car stumbles
on rocks of broken windows.
Now I cannot see your face.
What was left in
our hands. I read daily your
lines. They cry every night.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 6th, 2024 20:10
- Category: Nature
- Views: 7
Offline)
Comments1
I again came to read lines of wisdom in the foolish. Beautiful thoughts provoked by the poke of a stick.
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