PROGNOSIS

Did you foresee it? It was coming. 
The freaked guilt of failed attempt 
to get yourself kissed by a flame in the 
androgynous temptation of dark. 


One legitimate delay in dying of moon’s 
tears? The weather had fizzled out during wild 
winds and the summer was slowly starting a 
whispering campaign against the clouds. 

My enemy for sweet revenge will not 
halt the attack.A bouncing vision will 
start the fire engulfing the singing 
trees of drenched art. The floods of intimatcies 
were coming. 



Satish Verma