When clouds were
drawing graffiti on sky,
where were you?
Untamed manners
in a profound grief
brings back the black buck.
The buck stops here,
fallen on the golden ax.
Get me the lantern.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 1st, 2016 22:21
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.