ALONG THE SORROW

Fire in kidneys 
was burning the basket. 
Privacy of green thumbs 
was intimately involved. 

Let us share the candle light march 
for the blossoms, 
who would not stay 
for old birds, 

Read me again the epitaph 
of the martyr, who wanted to remain 
unsung, for the sorrow of 
the flowing river. 

Frenzy of a lone wolf was 
inconsolable, when the dam spilled 
the dead wood on the empty 
bed of roses.

Satish Verma