Will you wait for me
till the moon parts the clouds
and the lake looks serene?
A reticent encounter;
I want to speak through─
silence. A shadow play will do.
Mystic nights weave─
a conspiracy. The insects
hover like words.
A lamp? No I will
burn my bridges to illuminate
the river.
Between the math─
and a story lies
the bloody corpse.
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Author:
satishverma (
Offline) - Published: August 14th, 2017 22:40
- Category: Nature
- Views: 11
- Users favorite of this poem: CSS20013
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