BOUQUET

Come in the evening, 
on the lake. 
Together we will watch 
the sunset. 

Some unsung lines have been left 
on our lips. 
Some fractured smiles, 
and some unwashed tears, 
on the misty cheeks. 

Sadness was stuck 
in our reddened eyes. 
Layer by layer 
I want to wipe it. 
A song, a reed, I will arrange 
in a bouquet 
in the name of redundant past 
holding the unblemished time. 

Come, when it is dark 
in the night. 
Together we will watch 
the moonrise.

Satish Verma