It was night’s fury
whipping up hysteria
on specks of flames, dancing in pain.
On a heap of ashes
and bones where a child of death
will be born.
Before fading,
moon will kiss the golden thighs
of sun and think aloud
dying shirtless in intimate
ambit of sky.
Satish Verma
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: November 9th, 2011 22:28
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 14
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.