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
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: March 14th, 2013 23:04
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 13
Offline)
Comments1
such an ethereal mystical quality to this beautifully penned poem that it takes the reader to a higher place.
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