The Trappers

satishverma

There was left no middle,
of the path. It was a washed-
out theme and
negative numbers.

No bounce in the steps.
You were cowering in terror
of tomorrow. The fear
overwhelmed the alp.

It was a family feud,
from ashes to bones.
The mixed cadence was sending
the wrong signals to the walls.

The voices now come on the street,
for traditional wars, in
change of seasons. It
was raining out of turn.

  • Author: satishverma (Offline Offline)
  • Published: April 29th, 2017 22:28
  • Category: Nature
  • Views: 2
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