Let us talk today
of crazed times,
so that the trade of
ethical falls runs.
When dawn breaks
on the stunned silence
of moon, I start unfolding
the black sun.
Ah, a poetry wound
aches my world, knee deep
in blue veins, to find
the lost river of tears.
Give me a song, a word
a phrase, to grow old.
- Author: satishverma ( Offline)
- Published: July 13th, 2015 23:58
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
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