Touched by moon, I pick up
a black rose,
to return the debt.
Very high
the fire, returns in my eyes.
I start burning in your arms.
The parting,
crawls in the bed
I cannot speak nor cry.
Why it had to happen
after sunset,
when the leafless tree was waiting?
Satish Verma
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: January 24th, 2012 20:09
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 9
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