It was the day of
dead patriarch.
I was fondling an echidna.
The home was
carried away in the─
storm. Must find a broom.
On the remains─
of a burned-out soul.
A hope sits on the altar.
A piano drenched in rain─
will not sing in the gale.
The sky will collapse─
one day, I will bring
back the bluebird,
for a revenge.
-
Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: June 18th, 2017 22:50
- Category: Nature
- Views: 10
Offline)
To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.