satishverma

THE VISITOR

The wait begins adorned with symbols 
for shadow to fall 
between hope and pretention. 

The moon will talk 
when the dew returns 
and clouds are hiding. 

He will come in a black cloak 
for a final assault 
with broken promises. 

Is he untouchable? 
You cannot embrace him? 
Walks like a ghost between me and you. 

Our past, open-eyed, the truth 
happens on road 
in crowd, in our home.

Satish Verma

Comments1

  • baj-a

    such an ethereal mystical quality to this beautifully penned poem that it takes the reader to a higher place.



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