THE CANDLE BURNS

satishverma

Not a single word added today 
to my tinsel book. The brown eyes 
were searching my smile. 

You want to close the happening 
of first moon and the fig. 
My roses start a new dialect, 

waiting on the clouds, almost 
in rains, spreading the wetting 
agent between the eyes. 

The distance was the most crucial 
thing, that does not end; 
endlessly stretching.

Satish Verma

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: January 6th, 2011 22:29
  • Category: Unclassified
  • Views: 31
  • Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Receive the ebook in seconds 50 poems from 50 different authors


Comments +

Comments1

  • Cheeky Missy

    Interesting. Sounds like love that didn't make it? As in the age-old disappointment where one loves and the other does not really?



To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.