Goose-stepping on a soul song
you set the sky ablaze,
and I was not ready to welcome you.
I was hungry and I was thirsty
but could not find the road.
Back and forth, back and forth
walking with the toad. You can guess
my predicament when I said
that, I am, not I would
assult on the chaste fruit
of the moon, growing on the
tall tree of September.
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 11th, 2011 22:25
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 21
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy
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